


Love is Blind

by PixelByPixel



Series: Holidays in Hell's Kitchen [5]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cameo: Brett Mahoney, Cameo: Jessica Jones, Cameo: Marci Stahl, Cameo: The Liebermans, Canon-Typical Poor Life Choices, Emoping, Foggy Nelson Is a Good Bro, Getting Back Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Break Up, You guys there are so many conversations that I am not tagging all the relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22715845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelByPixel/pseuds/PixelByPixel
Summary: With Matt and Frank both still recovering from their New Year's breakup, it will take a village to get them back together.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock, Margaret Murdock & Matt Murdock, Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: Holidays in Hell's Kitchen [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1532732
Comments: 24
Kudos: 101
Collections: Daredevil Bingo, Marvel Fluff Bingo





	Love is Blind

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [titC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/) for betaing during a busy week and ALSO for coming up with the word _emoping_. Use it far and wide! 
> 
> This fills my [Daredevil Bingo](https://pixelbypixelfanfic.tumblr.com/bingo) square for _penance_ and my [Marvel Fluff Bingo](https://pixelbypixelfanfic.tumblr.com/bingo) for _interacting with children_

The keys were still there on the floor where they had landed after Matt had thrown them. They taunted him, reminded him of what he’d had.

He’d wanted to give Frank the keys on Christmas as kind of a gift since he hadn’t been able to think of anything better, but then he’d fallen and that had gone out the window.

It had taken Matt a while to pick out the keychain. He’d run his fingers lightly over every one in the shop until the clerk had taken pity on him and asked if he was looking for something in particular.

She’d worn just a touch of some flowery perfume, Matt remembered, and had found the perfect keychain when Matt had explained what he wanted. And he’d given it to Frank but then it had ended up on his floor.

Matt wasn’t going to pick it up. If he did, he’d have to deal with it, and that would mean admitting that the relationship was over. It was, wasn’t it? That was usually what leaving meant.

Why had Frank killed those men? He hadn’t answered any of Matt’s voicemails asking what had happened. Matt figured Frank must have somehow found out that they were calling him, but murder seemed like am extreme reaction to a few phone calls, even for the Punisher.

Matt knew there had to be a reason; Frank didn’t just kill people. He’d been upset over them shooting at Matt and about the incident with the kids in the alley on Halloween, but that, too, didn’t seem like enough reason for murder.

Whatever the reason, Frank obviously knew that what he’d done would upset Matt. Why else would he leave the keys? And if he wasn’t going to answer the voicemails… then fine.

It was over.

But Matt still left the keys on the floor.

He couldn’t see them, of course, but he knew they were there, that last little piece of Frank. Frank had taken his clothes and guns and all and left the keychain.

If that was how he wanted it to be, then so be it. Matt wasn’t going to go after him, begging him to come back.

He _wasn’t_ , but that didn’t make the apartment seem any less empty.

Matt prayed for the souls of the men Frank had killed and tried to move on with his life. He’d come home from work, maybe eat something, and try to meditate, with varying success. He tried not to think about Frank: the reassuring solidity of his presence, the warmth of his laugh, the way he wouldn’t put up with Matt’s shit.

Yeah, there was varying success there, too.

The worst time was at night when the demands of the day weren’t there to distract Matt’s brain. It got to a point where Matt didn’t even try to sleep. Some mornings, he woke up on the couch or, on one memorable occasion, on the bathroom floor. None of the sleep was really restful.

Three nights after Frank left, Matt went out. Sure, he’d said he would give it two weeks, but it wasn’t like Frank was around to enforce that, so fuck it. He pulled on the black outfit, ignoring the body armor that still sat at the bottom of his trunk, and tried to put on the Muay Thai ropes one-handed on his good arm until he tossed them aside in frustration.

Fine.

He was going to do this. His city still needed protection.

Despite the cast, he still managed to stop a mugging and break up a drug deal before what sounded like some stupid kid could make a bad decision. He made his way back to the rooftop, ignoring the fact that he was breathing hard, and listened. Yeah, there it was, a woman telling someone to knock it off, leave her alone. He ignored the ache in his arm and started in that direction, adding a little flip as he jumped from one rooftop to the next just to prove to himself that he could.

“Do you always have to be so extra?”

Jessica Jones. She sat on the rooftop and Matt heard her set aside her camera.

Matt came to a halt. He’d taken note of her before she’d spoken, of course, but hadn’t quite placed who she was. Too distracted; his focus was shot. “Generally, yes.”

“What are you doing out here, Murdock? I thought your boyfriend was patrolling tonight, then I’ve got tomorrow.”

It probably would have hurt less if she’d hit him.

Well, maybe not. This was Jess, after all. But Frank’s absence was like a raw spot on his skin and the mention of him just made it worse.

“Uh. He. We’re not.” He cleared his throat. “I’m patrolling tonight.”

“Oh, you’re using your Batman voice. It must be serious.” She pulled the camera into her lap and patted the spot of the roof next to her. “Come on. The city can wait for a minute.”

The woman he’d heard earlier was laughing now, so maybe Jess was right. And he was tired, bone-tired. All those sleepless nights were catching up to him. He couldn’t quite keep back a groan as he eased to a seat next to Jessica, his legs dangling.

He tried to think of a way to distract Jessica, but she seemed to manage that on her own. “Let’s see the cast.” Figuring she wouldn’t leave him alone until he showed her, Matt extended his arm. She held it, and it felt good to have some of the weight taken off his shoulder. That was probably supposed to be a metaphor or something, but Matt was tired, and his arm hurt, and also some muscles in his back from dealing with the extra weight of the cast, and he was just glad for a break.

He scraped a foot against the building he sat on, listening for the echoes. He did _not_ think about the distance to the ground, the likelihood of doing permanent damage to himself if he… fell.

After a long pause, Jess said, “Are you aware that there is a puppy sticker on this thing? And… I don’t even know what that is, but it’s disgustingly cute.”

“I was not. I’ll… I guess I’ll try to get rid of them.”

“Nah, don’t. You could use something to lighten you up.” She paused for a moment, then added, “Not a great fashion statement, the white cast against the black outfit. Makes you light up like a Christmas tree.”

“Shit. I didn’t think of that.” Probably too late to do anything about it now, but he’d remember that in the future. Matt took his arm back and cradled it against his chest. He should have used the sling, but he’d just wanted to go, to distract himself, to be somewhere that wasn’t his too-empty apartment.

He could feel Jess looking at him. “So what happened?” she asked, sounding a little like she felt she _should_ ask but maybe didn’t really want to. “You guys break up?”

“He killed some people.”

There was another of those pauses. “Yeah? And? I mean, it’s not like you didn’t know what you were signing up for. You were his lawyer. You know what he does.”

She had a point.

“I just don’t know why. And… he left.”

Matt tried not to sound too pathetic, but Jess’s snort suggested that he hadn’t managed it. “I know this is a radical concept, but did you ask him?”

“He’s not taking my calls.”

Matt sensed an attempt at patience in Jess’s pause. “You could, I don’t know, go to his place?”

Matt shook his head. He’d thought about it, had even started to go to Frank’s at 3 am the other day, but he knew that would be a bad choice. “He obviously doesn’t want to be around me.”

“Because he killed some people, he doesn’t want to be around you? Murdock, you’re not making any sense.”

Matt felt a little twitch of irritation. Jess didn’t know what she was talking about. “Well, that’s how it is,” he said, getting to his feet. “Sorry it doesn’t make sense to you.”

“Murdock, you don’t have to -” Jessica sighed and stood up as well.

“Pick up your camera,” Matt said, knowing it would distract her. “They’re about to fuck. You don’t want to miss the shot.”

“You can tell that from here?” Matt made a gesture, maybe a nod maybe a shrug. “Dude, that is so creepy.”

“You’re going to miss the shot,” Matt repeated. When Jessica picked up the camera and focused it on the window, he left. Maybe she heard him but she had to get the shot, and he had more people to save.

* * *

It seemed like Frank had only been asleep for a few minutes when the pounding on his door woke him up. He grumbled and rolled over, but the banging didn’t stop. He grabbed his phone and checked the time: two in the morning, son of a bitch.

“Go away!”

The pounding only got louder, but Frank could wait it out. He’d been in the Marines. Plus, he was tired, and his neighbors would probably dole out an ass-kicking before too much longer. No need for Frank to get up.

There were three more loud raps at the door, and then whoever was knocking somehow kicked open the door, despite the rather impressive number of locks Frank had installed.

“The fuck?” he asked, rolling out of bed and pulling the gun from his bedside table.

She stood in his doorway silhouetted by the hall light, some angry, black-haired woman in a leather jacket. She kicked the door shut behind her, hard enough that it stayed closed despite the broken locks. “Oh, good. You’re up.”

“Get out.” She didn’t move, and Frank clicked off the safety.

“You’ll piss off your emo boyfriend if you shoot me.”

Frank clicked the safety back on. How did she know Red? Despite the black outfit, she obviously wasn’t a nun, unless she was a nun gone very, very wrong. “I don’t have an emo boyfriend.”

Whoever it was sprawled on Frank’s kitchen chair. “Guess you guys really did break up, then, because he’s definitely emo.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Frank kept his gun ready.

Frank hadn’t really thought about what a smirk looked like, but if you looked in the dictionary under _smirk_ , you would see a picture of her face. “Jessica Jones.”

“Fuck.” He put away the gun.

“Not right now, but maybe if you play your cards right…”

Frank scoffed, though he was finding himself becoming more annoyed. “He sent you? At two o’clock in the fucking morning?”

“I see you have a favorite word.” Frank moved closer, but Jones didn’t seem worried. From all he’d heard about her, he wasn’t surprised. Still, she answered, “He didn’t send me, but I saw him earlier tonight. Before it was two o’clock in the fucking morning.” For a second, Frank maybe thought he saw a hint of wry amusement in her expression. It didn’t last, though.

“Then why are you here?”

She shrugged. “Got any booze?” Frank didn’t move, and she sighed. “Fine. Look, I like Murdock as much as I like anybody, and he seemed more emo than usual tonight. Though for a minute he might take a header off the roof.”

Frank felt his heart stop for a moment, but he shook his head. “That’s not on me. Red makes his own choices.” His stupid, reckless, _idiotic_ choices. Fuck.

“Yeah,” Jones agreed. “But he said you’re not taking his calls.”

“S’right. What are you, his messenger service?” He paused a moment, then realized aloud, “Was he out patrolling? It hasn’t been two weeks yet. Son of a -”

“Were _you_ out there?” Jones asked, her voice gone hard. “Because it was supposed to be your night, yeah?”

Shit. Yeah. She must have seen something of his guilty realization on his face. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. You and him breaking up, whatever. None of my business. But you not doing what you said you would do, and then he’s going out doing his vigilante shit with his arm in a cast? That’s on you.”

“I -”

He’d forgotten somehow. He’d worked his day job, done some recon for an op he was planning, and then gone to bed - where he hadn’t slept. He hadn’t really slept since he left his keys on Red’s counter, come to think of it. Maybe that was why he’d forgotten. He just couldn’t sleep. His place seemed too small and yet echoingly empty.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jones said as she got to her feet, her flat tone somehow implying that she was sure he hadn’t. “Luke and Danny and I will cover it from now on.”

“Look, Jones -” She turned and looked, her expression gone hostile. Well, more hostile. Not even sure why he was explaining himself to her, he said, “I did the right thing, killing those assholes.”

“Well,” she replied, her tone withering, “I’m glad you think so.”

She left his apartment, slamming the door behind her. It held for a moment and then fell down; the crank of wood against whatever laminate shit was on his floor was surprisingly loud.

Jones, of course, was already gone.

Frank studied his door and its broken locks. “Fuck.”

* * *

Foggy didn’t say a word when Matt came through the office, his pace slow, his mouth turned down. He figured it was just one of Matty’s moods; no need to call attention to it. And when he didn’t eat lunch the next day, well, maybe his arm was hurting. But time passed and his moodiness didn’t improve; when Matt snapped at Mrs. O’Shea, that was when Foggy grabbed him by his good arm and hauled him into the hallway.

“Dude. What is your problem?”

“No problem.”

“Are you kidding me? Did you hear what you just said in there to Mrs. O’Shea, who I am legally obligated to tell you is one of the nicest people in the world? I haven’t wanted to say anything, but you’ve been off for a while, now.”

Matt leaned back against the wall and his head lowered. He looked like hell. Foggy could see behind his glasses at that angle, and the skin under Matt’s eyes was practically purple. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just, I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Is it the, uh, night job? Or, well, you can’t really do that, what with the cast, right?” Silence. “ _Right?_ ”

Matt shrugged.

“Okay, that’s a discussion for when we have more time. I’d ask if you lost your mind, but we both already know that answer. Look, at least have Castle go with you, okay?” What a world, when Foggy was telling Matt to bring along the Punisher for his own safety.

But Matt didn’t smile at the mention of Castle. In fact, his expression darkened. “I don’t need a babysitter, Foggy.”

“Tough talk from somebody who’s acting like a two-year-old,” Foggy replied. Seeing Matt’s hackles go up even more, he gentled his voice as he said, “Go home. Try and sleep.”

But Matt was already shaking his head. He was smiling as he said, “I don’t need a nap, either,” but the expression didn’t make Foggy think of happiness or really anything pleasant. Before he could say anything else, Matt had gone back into the office, all smiles and soft words of apology to Mrs. O’Shea, who had probably forgiven him the moment he came back in the room. She really was that nice, so she definitely hadn’t deserved Matt giving her shit.

The rest of the day went well enough, though Foggy and Karen exchanged some guarded looks, and Karen tipped her head at him in some way that was probably supposed to be significant when the work was finished.

“Let’s go get a drink,” Foggy suggested to Matt.

Matt shrugged agreeably enough and walked alongside Foggy all the way to Josie’s. They got drinks and settled in at what had been their usual spot, and Matt said what Foggy was thinking: “We haven’t been here in a while.”

“Yeah, well. Work. Life. Marci. Frank.” Foggy saw how Matt tensed up a little bit at the mention of Frank. He ventured, “Everything okay with him?”

Matt took a long drink and did what Foggy had eventually figured passed for him as avoiding eye contact: head turned away, expression guarded. “He left.”

“What? Like, he _left_ left? Aw, Matty, that sucks. What an asshole.” Foggy thought about saying, _You’ll find another murdery person,_ but figured Matt wasn’t up for joking about it yet. “Did something happen?”

Matt nodded. “I think so, yeah. Remember the courthouse, uh, thing?”

“If by _thing_ you mean three dead people then, yeah, I remember.”

“He didn’t come h- back to my place after I got there, and he’d left his keys.”

Foggy just slid right on past _Matt gave the Punisher keys to his apartment_ and made what he hoped were appropriately sympathetic noises. “Well, but you know he…” Foggy didn’t want to say _killed those guys_ right there at Josie’s, so he just paused meaningfully before adding, “Right?”

“Yeah. He definitely did. No contact from him since.”

Matt’s jaw tightened and he pressed his lips together, and Foggy could feel his heart breaking a little for his friend. Showing typical horrible judgment, Matty had apparently fallen hard for the Punisher, and now he was obviously hurting.

“You want me to talk to him?”

“Nah.”

Foggy couldn’t keep back his, “Oh, thank God,” and was relieved to see Matt’s lips twitch upward a little. But, really? Foggy, going to interrogate Frank freaking Castle about his love life and alleged triple homicide? That really was Foggy’s perfect circle of Hell, right up there with those dreams about giving closing arguments before the Supreme Court - awesome, until he realized he was naked.

Foggy took a drink, letting the alcohol work its magic. Not a healthy coping mechanism, but it was better than putting on black underwear and beating people up. “Well,” he said, “how are you doing?”

Matt inhaled sharply and Foggy had a brief, panicked moment that his pal was going to break down right in the middle of Josie’s, but he pulled it together. His mouth moved, and Foggy suspected that he was going to say _fine_ , but he hesitated over his answer. “It’s tough,” he said finally. “I miss him.”

Foggy managed not to fall out of his chair at this open, honest communication from Matthew Murdock of all people. Instead, he nodded and said, his voice low, “I’m sure you do, buddy. Anything I can do for you, you know I’m there, right?”

Matt smiled a little and nodded. “I know. Thanks. This…” He gestured vaguely with his glass. “This helps. Getting out of the apartment, out of my head a little.”

“Well, then,” Foggy said, his voice expansive. “We will stay here and we will drink and we will hopefully not puke on the floor.”

Matt shook his head, though he looked amused. “Good plan, Fogs.”

And it was! They managed all points of the plan and Foggy was pleasantly buzzed by the time he got home to Marci. He’d managed to remember to text her at some point in the evening and she was still awake when he got home, curled up on the couch in her pajamas, a stack of files at her side.

“Work, work, work,” Foggy chided her, moving to flop to a seat on the side of the couch that held no files.

“Pays the bills,” Marci replied, though she seemed happy to see him. “Want some water?”

“That,” Foggy replied, “is smart. That’s why I love you. Because you’re smart. And beautiful. And did I mention patient?”

That got a laugh out of her. Marci got up, putting away the files before getting Foggy a glass of water. “I love you too, Foggy Bear. Is Matt okay?”

Foggy shook his head as he took the water. “Matt is definitely not okay. The Punisher broke his heart.”

Marci paused. “Wait, what? They broke up? That’s what tonight was about?”

Foggy paused to drink some water, vaguely remembering the importance of hydration, and then nodded. “Yeah, he killed some guys and didn’t come back to Matt’s place after, isn’t taking his calls.”

Foggy could practically watch Marci’s brain work. That had been some good alcohol. Or possibly bad alcohol. Either way, there had been a lot of it.

“Okay, he killed some guys, which is… not unusual, from what I’ve heard, so is there something significant about these particular guys?”

Foggy shrugged. “One of them yelled at Matt before Castle took him out. Sniper style. He was up on a roof and… pow.”

“Okay, so there’s definitely some premeditation there. You don’t just happen to be on a roof with a sniper rifle.”

“No,” Foggy agreed, smiling. She was brilliant. He was dating the smartest woman in the world.

“So he killed these guys, one of whom yelled at Matt, and then Matt heard nothing from him. Does Matt know the dead guys?” Foggy shrugged. He’d been more concerned with Matt than the dead guys. Marci sighed and was quiet for a little while. “Is Frank… okay?” she finally asked, and Foggy took a moment to try to imagine a scenario in which Frank Castle ended up Not Okay.

“Matt didn’t seem freaked out on that level, and I assume he’d tell me if Castle was dead.” He paused. “Though maybe not. It took him forever to tell me _he_ wasn’t dead. But… no. I think he’s okay. Castle, I mean.”

“Okay, that’s something. Do you know where Castle lives?”

Foggy peered at Marci, suddenly concerned. “Why?”

“Because I’d like to hear his side of the story before I tell Brett he killed three guys.”

“What? Marci, no, no, don’t go see Frank Castle.” Recognizing the dangerous tilt to her eyebrows, Foggy quickly added, “Not that you’re not perfectly capable of… no. Who the hell am I kidding? This is _Frank Castle_.”

“I don’t think he would hurt me, Foggy.”

Foggy stood up, wavering a little. He was still a little drunk, but he knew that Marci confronting Frank Castle was a bad, bad idea. Like, a Matt-level poor life choice. “If you go threaten him, he’s just going to smile and say okay? Marci, _no_. You didn’t see the pictures of the people he killed.”

“Right, he killed a lot of people, but they were criminals. I am not a criminal.”

“Therefore he won’t kill you when you go threaten to turn him in to Brett?”

Marci reached up and patted his cheek. “Now you’ve got it. Finish up your water and try to get some sleep, okay?”

Foggy had a moment of brief, intense sympathy for Matt’s dislike of coddling. “And you’re not going to go see Frank Castle.”

“At this hour? Of course not. The poor man is probably sleeping.”

Foggy finished his water and shuffled off toward the bedroom. “That so-called poor man broke my best friend’s heart. _And_ he killed a lot of people. Don’t forget the murders! Because that’s how Matt Murdock likes ’em: murdery!”

“Good night, Foggy Bear.”

* * *

For once, Frank Castle was actually awake when the knock sounded at his poor, battered door. It was a polite rap, not something that would bring down the wrath of his neighbors or knock down his door. The fact that it was early evening helped with that, too.

It was the knock of someone who wanted to sell him something or to tell him about their religion, despite the sign on his building’s door disallowing such things. Frank didn’t want anything to do with that unless it was kids selling cookies.

Whoever it was knocked again. It was the knock of someone who wasn’t going to go away, so Frank heaved a sigh, grabbed his gun, and looked through the peephole.

Fuck.

Marci Stahl. She looked calm and polite and she carried a white paper bag that implied takeout, but Frank remembered a certain exchange they’d had in her kitchen and thought hard about ignoring her knock.

The polite rapping sounded once more, and Frank considered the fire escape, then remembered that bag. If his death came with food, maybe it wasn’t so bad. Frank had… it wasn’t that he’d been forgetting to eat, but food seemed like such a hassle lately.

Not that he thought Marci would kill him. But it was entirely possible she could make him wish he was dead. Well, more than usual.

Frank raked a hand over his hair in an attempt to look reasonably presentable, then opened the door.

“Hi, Frank. Sorry I didn’t call first, but I thought you might leave if you were given a warning.”

Frank couldn’t help but smile a little at that. “You’re probably right. Uh, want to come in? I’ve got water, coffee left over from this morning that you probably don’t want, and some cheap booze.”

Marci came in, but she shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m good. I brought sandwiches - Foggy’s brother made them - and drinks.”

“I’ve heard good things about those sandwiches,” Frank replied. “Thanks.”

He grabbed some bills and such off his table and gestured that she take the chair, then got a plastic crate that he’d been using to store stuff in, upended it, and sat on that. It put their heads at about the same level, which Frank guessed was okay.

Marci unpacked the sandwiches and some bottles of iced tea, and Frank wondered what the deal was. Poison in the food? She’d implied that him hurting Red would bring about bad consequences for him, and, well. He didn’t know how Red was doing, as he hadn’t been able to bring himself to answer any of his calls, but he assumed it wasn’t great. “So I’m guessing you’re not just feeding me out of the kindness of your heart.”

Marci smiled a little as she slid over a sandwich and some tea. “Honestly? I was hungry, and I passed the butcher shop on my way here. And my mother always taught me it was rude to eat in front of people. That’s all. No ulterior motive.”

“Hm. Well, thanks.”

Frank started eating. If they were going to have a weird, potentially awkward conversation about how he’d fucked up, she was going to have to start it.

For a while, they ate in silence; from the speed at which Marci was downing her sandwich, she’d been telling the truth about being hungry. “Sorry,” she said, eventually. “Court today, and then it took a while to figure out where you live. Theo knows his way around a sandwich, though.”

“Yeah, it’s good,” Frank agreed. “Theo, that’s Nelson’s brother? The butcher shop one?” He was okay with small talk. It beat the hell out of listening to his faults.

Marci nodded. She ate another bite, took a sip of tea, then wiped her mouth with one of the napkins. She was getting down to business. When she spoke, her voice was gentle; if this was her Lawyer Mode, it was pretty different from Red’s. “So what happened with you and Matt?”

Frank did not forget that he was speaking to a lawyer: one that, despite the pleasant Thanksgiving meal, was no friend to him. “We’re just too different, that’s all.”

The thing of it was, that was the truth. Frank thought that killing people was a reasonable response to them committing crimes - not all crimes, mind; just the bad ones - and Red was never going to agree to that.

Frank ate some more, his eyes on his sandwich wrapper, but he could just feel her watching him. “I know you killed the men at the courthouse.”

Frank kept eating, telling himself not to give anything away.

Marci continued, “Foggy said that one of them yelled Matt’s name, and then they were killed.”

Frank took a drink.

“And Matt knows you killed them, Frank.”

Frank lifted his gaze. “Guess he didn’t see me do it, though.”

Marci frowned a little and Frank sighed. He knew it was an asshole thing to say, but he also knew there was no way Red could testify against him without giving up his secret identity. And would that be ironic, since preserving Red’s secrecy was what had gotten this shitshow going, to begin with.

“I just want to know why you killed them,” Marci said, a hint of reproof in her tone. “Because even though I don’t agree with it, I know you have a moral code. You wouldn’t just kill these men, not without a reason.”

Frank shook his head. “We have one meal together and you think you know about my _moral code_? Fuck that. You don’t know me. Maybe those guys pissed me off. It’s none of your fucking business why I killed them.”

Marci’s mouth tightened a little. He wasn’t loud - he didn’t want his neighbors to hear him saying that he’d killed people - but maybe he’d gone a little intense.

He wasn’t going to apologize, though. Not when he was right.

“The reason I know about your moral code,” she said, her tone crisp and cool and _definitely_ Lawyer Mode, “Is because Matt and I have talked about it, about him and you.”

Huh. “Well, good for you. But me and Red, that’s my business, too. Not yours, not Nelson’s.”

“Well,” Marci said, drawing out the word, “it’s my understanding that there _is_ no you and… Red.”

“Yeah, and you said you’d make my life hell if I hurt him, and I did, right?” Frank said, annoyed and not bothering to hide it. “So spit it out. What are you going to do? Tell on me?” Okay, maybe he was sneering a little, but the nerve on this woman. “There’s nobody you can tell whose opinion matters all that much to me. They’re all dead or… gone.”

Marci got to her feet. She didn’t look nervous, not quite, but she did look done with him. “How about Brett Mahoney? You’re right: we don’t have any proof that you killed those men, but I think Brett knows enough about this situation to take Foggy’s word for it. And I’m pretty sure cops swept the rooftop where you shot them, so maybe they do have proof. Either way, your life is about to get difficult.”

Frank rocked back in his chair a little, watching her go, wondering what she would say if she knew _why_ he’d killed those lowlifes. “All that because I hurt Red’s feelings?” He was proud that his voice remained steady. Killing those thugs had been the right thing to do; he knew it was. That Red was upset over it all, well, he didn’t love that. But it was the only solution to the problem.

Marci turned at the doorway. “Because you hurt Matt, and because you did kill those men. People who kill should be brought to justice.”

She didn’t wait for his answer, but instead turned on her heel and left, closing the door firmly behind her.

Well, at least the door was still standing this time, but what was it with women coming to his place and telling him he’d fucked up?

Frank sighed. He wasn’t sure if she really was going to tell Mahoney, but she’d seemed pretty determined. Just in case, he’d better get going. No need for Mahoney to find him there. He grabbed his go bag but opened it instead of just taking off. Even if Marci was on the phone with Mahoney right at that moment, he still had time to pack a few extras.

Then he was gone.

* * *

Matt stood outside Frank’s building and listened. He hadn’t come there on purpose, he told himself. Frank didn’t want any contact and Matt was going to leave him alone. He’d just been walking that way and ended up there, his feet taking the lead without any involvement from his brain.

But since he was there, Matt listened. That familiar heartbeat, reassuringly steady, wasn’t in the building.

Not like that was a reason for concern. Maybe Frank was out working, either his day job - which didn’t always involve working during the day - or his other job.

Maybe Frank was killing someone right at that moment.

At least when he was with Matt, he’d killed fewer people. Maybe Matt should… no. That wasn’t a reason to be in a relationship with someone. (Was that what they’d had? A relationship? Sometimes it was hard to tell.)

If Frank had been there, maybe Matt would have gone upstairs and said, _Look, let’s talk about this._

And once Frank had recovered from his shock over Matt _wanting to talk_ about something that really mattered, who knows what would have happened.

Well. Matt had some ideas on what would have happened. He let his mind stray in that direction, losing himself in his thoughts. Of course, thinking about Frank that way was good for a moment, but then he started thinking about the keychain again.

Really, he could have turned thoughts of _Why?_ and _Of course he left_ and _Damn it, Frank_ for hours, but he was brought back to the present by someone clearing his throat.

Brett Mahoney. Huh.

Matt had known he was there, really. For sure. He just hadn’t been paying attention. That focus thing again.

“Murdock, what are you doing here?”

“Just out for a walk,” Matt replied, turning on that charm that never really worked on Brett. “Wanted to watch the sunset.”

There was a soft snort from Brett that Matt assumed meant _Idiot_. He didn’t entirely disagree; coming to Frank’s building had been a mistake.

“Well, since you’re here, is Castle upstairs?”

“Castle? Frank Castle?”

Brett sighed. “Don’t pull that with me, Murdock. I know the two of you were an item -” Wait, what? “- which, don’t get me started on that, and we’re looking at him in connection with a triple homicide. The one at the courthouse not too long ago. Maybe you remember it?”

“I… yeah.” Brett would know that Matt had been there; no sense in denying it. Matt tried to focus, but his mind reeled a little that they were pinning it on Frank. “Why do you suspect him?”

“Got a tip,” Brett replied, sounding just evasive enough that Matt felt a prickle of suspicion. “Plus, it’s his style. Three shots in quick succession like that, from that distance. It definitely sounds like Castle.”

“Did you check the roof?” Matt pressed.

Brett wasn’t having it. “Unless he’s your client, I’m under no obligation to tell you that. Now, is he up there?”

“I just got here,” Matt replied. He had a brief, wild thought of saying that, yes, Frank was his client, but he didn’t think Foggy would ever forgive him for that. Not again.

“Well, then, come on. You can walk me up.”

Matt shrugged. Why not? They went up to Frank’s apartment and Matt frowned a little at the hint of sawdust he smelled. Nobody answered Brett’s knock, and his call of “NYPD” was enough to get some heartrates up in some neighboring apartments.

A smile and a flash of his badge from Brett got the super to let them in. “You can really be charming when you want,” Matt told Brett, his smile just shy of being smarmy.

“Shut up,” Brett muttered. When the super found the right key and opened the door, Brett added, “Looks like somebody busted the door in, broke the deadbolts right through the door. Damn.” He let out a low whistle, and Matt heard the rasp of his thumb on the door. “Castle or somebody fixed it up, put in some new locks, but you can tell where he patched it up here and there.”

“Maybe you can,” Matt quipped, but he felt uneasy. Who had knocked in Frank’s door? Was he all right? Matt didn’t smell blood, so there was that. Brett made a vaguely annoyed sound, and Matt asked, “How does the place look?”

The metallic gun smell had faded and Matt was oddly reassured by that; wherever Frank was, he had his guns.

“Not sure what it normally looks like - and before you say anything, yeah, neither do you - but there are some drawers left open, maybe some stuff taken out of them. Looks like he planned to go. That makes sense, though; who could get Frank Castle to go somewhere he didn’t want to?”

Matt assumed the question was rhetorical. “Well, I haven’t been around him since the day of the shooting.”

Brett stopped walking around the apartment and Matt felt the weight of his regard. “Yeah, how’d that go?”

Matt shrugged. “He was gone when I got up.” He must have remembered that Matt had to go to court, though; he’d tied a tie for him before he left, perhaps knowing that Matt would have trouble doing that with just the one working hand. Matt’s throat tightened a little at the memory of the tie looped over his suit’s hanger where Matt would be sure to find it.

“How was he acting the night before?”

Matt inhaled a deep breath and then let it out. “You do remember who we’re talking about, right?” Brett made a vaguely affirmative sound and Matt said, “It’s not like he got upset over something and killed some people because of it.”

“So you believe Frank Castle killed those men?” Matt didn’t say anything and Brett continued, “Why do you think so?”

Matt wasn’t about to answer the question, though he figured Brett assumed his silence was out of loyalty. Of course, that wasn’t it; it wasn’t like Matt could explain that he had recognized Frank’s heartbeat.

But even if he could, he wouldn’t have. Yeah, he guessed loyalty played a part, after all. He didn’t like how Frank dealt with the criminal element around Hell’s Kitchen, but he didn’t want him in jail. He wanted him…

Hell, he wanted him back.

“… Murdock.”

It sounded like Brett was repeating himself. That kept happening; Matt would lose himself in thoughts of Frank and tune out the rest of the world.

“What?”

“Why do you think Castle killed those men?”

“Well, I never actually said I thought that, but if I _did_ …” Matt gestured vaguely skyward. “The shots. Not many people could have made them. I’m sure there are others who could, though.”

Brett sighed and Matt felt a brief pang of sympathy for him. This wasn’t the easiest place to be a cop. “I have reports that the three men were approaching you before they were killed -”

“Didn’t see them,” Matt interrupted. Okay, apparently the sympathy was gone.

“Knock it off.” Matt grinned at Brett’s reproof, but sobered as he said, “And I also heard that one of the men called your name just before he was killed.”

“Yes,” Matt replied. There was no point in denying it. But he didn’t elaborate.

Brett sounded like he was hanging on to his patience by the skin of his teeth. “Did you know those men?”

Matt shrugged as he went back to the door and found the mended spots with his fingers. “I’ve encountered them in the Kitchen.”

Brett sighed. “Look, I know you don’t want to incriminate your boyfriend, but -”

Matt rounded on Brett before he could say more; something in his expression must have startled Brett, as he rocked back a step. “He’s not my -” He shook his head, turning back to the door and muttering, “He’s not.”

He wasn’t. What he and Frank had - well, _had_ had - wasn’t a _boyfriend_ thing. That word didn’t feel right but he couldn’t really come up with one that fit.

“Well, whatever he is, you telling me if you knew the guys that we both know he killed isn’t going to make a difference in whether we find and convict him.”

“It’s motive,” Matt protested. “If it’s true.”

“And the fact that you won’t tell me means yes. Got it.”

Matt smacked the door with the flat of his hand and exhaled sharply. It didn’t make a difference, no, but he didn’t want to say anything that could be a betrayal of Frank, despite everything that had happened.

“So where is he, Murdock?”

“Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“I can bring you in as an accessory.”

Matt scoffed. "We both know I’m not. Plus, how would that look, arresting the poor, blind lawyer?”

“Fine.” Brett exhaled a short, frustrated sigh that activated Matt’s sympathy once again. “Look, he’s not usually… okay, Frank Castle isn’t a subtle guy when it comes to killing people. We both know that. But he’s not usually this blatant about it. There were cops right there. They saw the whole thing, even if they didn’t see who did it.”

Matt turned in Brett’s direction. “You like Frank,” he said, probably not managing to keep the shock from his voice.

“The guy’s a psychopath,” Brett countered. “But he saved my life.”

“He _what_?”

“Look, you don’t need the details,” Brett said, impatient. “But if he has some sort of motivation, if it was self-defense… from up on a roof, yeah,” he added, poking a hole in his argument before Matt could.

Matt desperately wanted to know how Frank had saved Brett’s life, but Brett was clearly not going to tell and Frank wasn’t returning his calls.

“I’m sorry,” Matt said. “I really don’t know where he would go. Frank could keep to himself, even…”

Even with Matt. Sure, they talked some, and Frank was always telling Matt what a shitty communicator he was, but Matt didn’t know who most of his friends were, who he would go to if he needed help.

Frank seemed more the type to handle things on his own. “Maybe a motel or something,” Matt added.

“Thanks. Let’s clear out. I’ll let the super know that she can lock up.”

Matt nodded, though he waited for Brett to finish chatting with the super, asking her to give him a call if Frank showed up.

“Will you let me know if you bring him in?”

“Yeah,” Brett replied. “Though you probably shouldn’t represent him. I don’t think Foggy could go through that again.”

“Yeah, no,” Matt agreed.

“I don’t guess you’ll let me know if you hear from him.”

“Probably not, no. Catch you later, Brett.”

“See you around, Counselor.”

* * *

Churches made Foggy nervous. Well, no, not all churches. Some churches were bright and airy and he got along okay with those. It was the Catholic churches that bugged him. It felt like the incense smell lingered, catching at the back of Foggy’s throat.

Ordinarily, he wouldn’t set foot in a Catholic church; he hadn’t been in one since Matt had convinced him to go back while they were at Columbia. Foggy had been hopelessly confused about when to stand and whether he would go to hell if he crossed himself, since he wasn’t Catholic. He’d opted not to repeat the experience.

Mercifully, he wasn’t there for mass. The nice nun at the orphanage had told him that Sister Maggie was at the church, and Sister Maggie was who he had come to see.

Finding out that Matt had found his mother had been exciting, but learning that she was a nun had completely blown Foggy’s mind. He never ever would have thought to add nun plus boxer and get Matthew Murdock, but it made perfect sense when he thought about it.

He’d never met Matt’s mother - Sister Maggie. Karen had and had related her appearance (small, dark-haired) and her personality (no-nonsense, kind of a martyr but helpful) and, well, Foggy knew she was a nun. Unfortunately for him, there were three nuns praying in the church. One of them turned toward him and he could see her red hair peeking out from under her veil: not Maggie then. The other two remained at prayer, with their backs to him, and Foggy sighed. Why could nothing relating to Matt ever be simple?

Foggy walked slowly down the side aisle, trying to figure out how he’d know which was the right nun. Neither of them looked particularly tall, but it was hard to tell, as they were kneeling. As he drew up alongside the closer nun, she sighed, sounding frustrated, and Foggy took a guess. “Sister Maggie?”

She turned, straightening. “Yes?”

Foggy managed to modulate his grin into a smile that was more appropriate to the location and the topic he wanted to bring up with Matt’s mom, but he was still pleased. Sure, he’d had a fifty percent chance of getting it right, but he’d still gotten it. “I’m, uh, Foggy Nelson.”

Sister Maggie smiled and got to her feet. “Matthew’s friend. I’ve heard so much about you.” She offered a hand and Foggy shook it.

“I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or not,” he said. That was the truth, but he was still mostly pleased to be a topic of conversation.

“No, it is,” Sister Maggie reassured. “All good things.” She tipped her head a little as she looked at him, and Foggy struggled a little with déjà vu until he realized how often he’d seen Matt make that same gesture.

_Score one for genetics,_ he thought.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, suddenly looking concerned. “Matthew -?”

“Is fine,” Foggy reassured, and her grip on the pew in front of her seemed to loosen a bit. “Well, physically, at least. Have you… seen him lately?”

Sister Maggie frowned a little, maybe as she tried to remember. “He’s been avoiding me after mass lately,” she said. “And I haven’t seen him besides that. I texted him and he was very apologetic, said he had a lot going on. Is everything all right?”

Foggy was briefly distracted by a scuffling noise behind him and Maggie’s frown deepened. The noise didn’t continue, so Foggy said, “I was hoping he’d come to talk to you. See, he and Frank broke up.”

“Matt and Frank broke up?” It was obviously a kid’s voice and Foggy was briefly amazed by the church’s acoustics, as everybody had to have heard that. Fortunately, the church was pretty empty. Still, he just about had a heart attack, hoping he hadn’t just revealed the Punisher’s identity.

“Sammy,” Maggie chided, and a little dark-haired girl scrambled up from under the pew behind them. “We’ve talked about this.”

Sammy mumbled a quick apology, but pressed, “Matt and Frank broke up?” At least she was quieter this time. She frowned. “Matt and Frank were boyfriends?”

Foggy, with a gesture toward the kid that he tried not to make too frantic, asked, “Does she - Sammy - know, uh -?”

Sammy climbed nimbly over the back of the pew, earning herself some truly epic stink eye from Sister Maggie, and stood on the seat. Frowning down at Foggy, she asked, “Do _you_?”

It was then that Foggy recognized her. “You’re the ninja.”

Sammy grinned, then, all hostility gone. “You gave us full-size candy bars.”

“Sammy, feet off the pew, or you’ll be cleaning all of them.” Sister Maggie’s threat was clearly not an idle one, as Sammy hopped down from the pew and polished the spot where her feet had been with the hem of her shirt.

Still, Sammy didn’t seem too bothered as she said, “It’s fine, Sister. See? Not like that day with the mud.” She had to look up at Foggy as she asked, “Is Matt okay? And Frank?”

Foggy shot a sidelong look at Maggie but she gave him no clue as to whether he should be having this discussion in front of the kid, so he just said, “I hope so.”

“Me, too,” Sammy replied. “I like them. They’re nice.” Foggy’s kind was still reeling at the thought of a kid thinking of the Punisher as _nice_ when she added the words that nearly made him fall over, right there in the church, “Frank was even our Santa at the Christmas party.”

“All right, now,” Sister Maggie said, her expression amused but a little guilty as she shooed the kid off. “I know you have homework because Kwan told me about it.”

“Kwan is a snitch,” Sammy grumbled, but she took herself out a side exit.

“Frank Castle,” Foggy whispered, “was Santa?” Sister Maggie neither confirmed nor denied it, but her lips curved just the tiniest bit. Foggy felt an unexpected delight bubble up within him. After all, the kid had looked pleased when she mentioned Frank as Santa, not traumatized, so it must have gone well. If only he’d known about it at the time. Foggy could have made a joke about what happened to people on Santa’s naughty list. “Please tell me there are pictures.”

Sister Maggie didn’t reply to that, either. Foggy didn’t really blame her; they were basically blackmail pictures of the Punisher; he sure wouldn’t share them, if he had them. “You, uh, know who he is?” She nodded. “And you let him be Santa?”

The nun’s eyebrows went up. “He did us that favor,” she replied, her voice cool. Now, Foggy didn’t have a fear of nuns but at that moment, as he mumbled a hasty apology, he could relate to those who did. She inclined her head, then prompted, “Matthew?”

“Yeah,” Foggy said, changing topics with relief. “He’s, well, not happy. Not like he was when he and Frank were…” He made a vague gesture, his ability to speak deserting him at both the need to define what Matt and Frank Castle were to each other and the realization that he kind of preferred things that way.

“Together,” Sister Maggie supplied, and Foggy seized on that as a neutral word for whatever it was. “Well, I suppose that makes sense. It’s difficult when a relationship ends.”

Foggy almost asked how she, a nun, would know, but then remembered Matt. Clearly there had been something going on with Battlin’ Jack back in the day, but Foggy did _not_ ask for details. “Well, it seems like a little more than your standard breakup blues.” Matty was mostly functional, at least; not like after Elektra. “And if he hasn’t been to see you… well, he said you two talk sometimes.” Though Foggy wasn’t sure how much Matt talked to his mother the nun about his love life.

“Sometimes,” Sister Maggie agreed, with a small grimace. “Not lately. He hasn’t come as often since he and Frank got together; when he did come, he was happy. I didn’t complain. It was good to see him happy.”

“Right?” Foggy agreed. “Frank was -” He sighed and admitted it, “- good for Matt.”

Sister Maggie nodded. “Do you know why they broke up?”

Foggy hesitated over his answer. “It’s complicated,” he said finally. "And it’s probably something Matt should tell you himself."He paused a beat, then asked, “Do you ever, I don’t know, go by his apartment?”

She grimaced. “Not really. Just once lately and there were, ah, extenuating circumstances.”

Foggy sighed. “Shit.” Oh, wait. Church. “Uh, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure far worse things have been said here.” Sister Maggie hesitated. “If Matthew comes, I’ll talk to him, of course, but I don’t think me seeking him out would be particularly helpful. As long as he’s not -” She pursed her lips, clearly considering her words. “- being too extreme in his reactions.”

Foggy sighed. “Well, you’ve met him.” That got him a grim smile, but Foggy added, “He hasn’t gotten too bad.” From her expression, he was pretty sure the nun heard his unspoken, _So far_.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said. “I’ll pray for Matthew and for Frank.”

Foggy nodded and took that as a dismissal. As he turned to go, Sister Maggie added, “And for you. You’re a good friend.”

“Thank you, Sister.”

_Well_ , Foggy thought as he walked toward the church’s entrance, _At least somebody is pulling for me._

* * *

Maggie watched Foggy make his way out of the church, his steps slow. Obviously, he was worried about Matthew, and he wasn’t the only one. For a moment, she reconsidered going to see him at his apartment, but he would no doubt be suspicious if she just showed up. That would make him even less likely to talk.

She felt a pang of regret over whatever had happened between Matthew and Frank. While she had her concerns about Frank’s activities, of course, she also had been grateful to see Matthew as happy as he had been over the past few months. Frank was good for him, and maybe Matthew was good for Frank as well. Maggie shifted back to the kneeler and said a brief prayer for them both - and for Foggy as well, as she had said she would. She prayed for patience and compassion for Foggy, and for healing and comfort for Matthew and Frank. She also pointed out to God that Matthew could more easily do His work if he was content, but left the specifics up to Him. If God saw fit to bring them back together, who was Maggie to argue?

Maggie sighed, crossed herself, and slipped out of the church by the side exit, the one closest to the orphanage. She took a brief walk around the perimeter of the small backyard, just to make sure that the children hadn’t left toys out, and came to a pause near the tool shed.

Maggie had worked with children for years. She knew the sounds of trouble brewing, just as she knew that sometimes the absence of sound signaled impending mischief. As she approached the shed, she realized that a sound that had been at the back of her mind had stopped as she approached. She waited for it to start up again and then, when it did not, took note of the fact that the door seemed to have been broken open, the weatherbeaten wood split neatly around the spot where the lock used to be.

Sister Connie had mentioned that the door - well, the whole shed, really - needed to be replaced, but there was always the issue of money. This did press the issue, though.

The children were unlikely to have committed this level of mischief, but Maggie wasn’t sure who else would have been in the yard. She turned to go back inside, though whether to call the policeman or one of the parishioners to come help with the door, she wasn’t sure. She’d taken just a few steps when she heard a soft, frustrated sound.

She knew that voice.

Maggie turned back to the shed and rested one hand on the door as she listened. Whatever Matthew was doing in the shed, he probably wouldn’t welcome her presence, but he sounded like he needed help; she had already abandoned him enough times.

Maggie pushed the door open, holding her breath as she listened, but no further sounds came. The shed was small enough that she saw him as soon as she stepped through the door, his casted arm braced against the tool bench, a hacksaw in his other hand. She couldn’t see his eyes, hidden as they were behind the glasses, but his face was pale and he needed a shave more than usual.

“Matthew,” she protested, already stepping forward when he turned toward her, lifting the saw.

He would not hurt her; not physically, at least. After hesitating for just a moment she continued forward. “Matthew, give me the saw.”

His lips pressed together and he set the saw down on the table: not acquiescence, but not outright defiance, either.

Maggie did not ask what he was doing as it seemed obvious enough; he’d managed to saw partway through the cast. Her heart clenched a little when she realized that he’d sawed right through Frank’s signature. Had that been intentional?

“Well, this is impressive,” she said, her tone implying the opposite.

Matthew lifted his chin, his jaw jutting for a moment. He had his father’s stubbornness. Well, no, Maggie was self-aware enough to know it came from both sides. Poor Matthew; he didn’t really stand a chance. “I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

Maggie scoffed. “Of course you are. Clearly, you’re full of great ideas.”

“It’s heavy. It throws off my balance.”

“And you’re scheduled to get it removed before too much longer, so why are you doing this?”

Matthew sighed and braced his good hand against the bench. “I just… I wanted…”

He couldn’t say it, but Maggie knew. She’d felt it often enough, that spiraling feeling when everything seemed to be slipping from her grasp. He wanted to be able to control something.

“I know,” she said, and his head tipped a little as he listened. “But you could have hurt yourself doing this.” She paused a beat, then added dryly, “If hurting yourself was the point, there are easier ways.”

“No,” Matthew replied. “No, it wasn’t.” His unspoken _not this time_ hung heavy between them. “I just can’t take this cast anymore. And my arm is fine now. I’ve been meditating.”

Maggie nodded and hummed to indicate that she’d heard. “You could go see Richie and see if he can do an x-ray to see if it’s healed.”

“That’s so…” Too involved, too much work. Matthew didn’t say it, but Maggie could tell that was what he meant.

“And the emergency room when you cut your arm wouldn’t be?” His brows lifted over the tops of his glasses and Maggie added, “I’ve patched you up before, yes, but don’t think I would fix you if you did something this stupid.” Of course, she would, and they both knew it. “Really, Matthew? A hacksaw?”

He smiled a little at that. “I was hoping you would have power tools.”

Shaking her head, Maggie replied, “If you ever wanted proof that God is looking out for you…”

Matthew shrugged.

“If I call Richie and make the appointment, will you go?”

He shook his head. “I’ll call. I can do it. Oh, and he goes by Rich now.”

“I suppose people do grow up.” Matthew scoffed, and she asked, “Too pointed?”

“No. Just about pointed enough, I guess. I’m going to go make that call.”

He did put the hacksaw away first and smiled in her direction before he left.

She would not, Maggie decided, call Richie to make sure that Matthew had made the appointment. Matthew was an adult.

It wasn’t until she went back into the building that she realized she hadn’t asked about Frank.

* * *

Matt made the phone call and Rich scheduled a test that would involve Matt being stuck in a tube for the duration. He took note of the date but debated whether he would go.

Unfortunately, Matt made the phone call from the office, and Foggy cleared his throat from the doorway as Matt set down the phone.

“That phone call have anything to do with that cut on your cast?”

Matt hadn’t realized that Foggy had noticed. “Thinking about seeing if I can get it taken off early.”

“Well, you’ve already kept it on longer than I thought you would,” Foggy replied, and Matt heard the smile in his voice. “They want to do a test or something? Do you have to go to the hospital?”

“Nah. There’s an office, they do the thing there.”

“Are you really going to do the thing?”

Matt sighed. “It’s not my favorite, but unless you have access to power tools…”

“Yeah, not happening, buddy. When’s the appointment? Want me to go with?”

Matt’s initial response was to say no, that he could do it himself. And he could, he knew that, but he didn’t _have_ to do it himself. “Yeah, could you? It’s not an appointment; I can go whenever.”

“Wait, what? I mean, yeah, of course… but really? And if there’s no set time, we can just go.” Foggy did not say, _Before you decide not to do it,_ but it didn’t really need to be said.

“Yeah. That’d be… well, not great, but good to get it done. And, hey, we can get dinner or something after.”

“What, like getting a lollipop at the doctor’s office if you’re good? Yeah, sounds good, buddy.”

So Foggy went with Matt, and Matt suffered through the test and was actually grateful for Foggy’s reassuring presence. Fogs wasn’t allowed in the room where Matt went for the test, which involved being stuck in a tube. Matt couldn’t see it, but he could _feel_ the closeness of it; when he started to get overwhelmed, when the walls of the stupid tube started closing in on him, he took deep breaths and listened to Foggy’s heartbeat.

When Matt stumbled back into the hallway, Foggy got right up and put his arm right where Matt could grab it without being too obvious. The tech sounded sympathetic as she said, “Your doc should get the results day after tomorrow, Mr. Murdock.”

“Let’s go get your lollipop, Matty,” Foggy said, as Matt murmured his thanks to the tech.

“Ha,” Matt said as he curled his hand around Foggy’s arm. “Can the lollipop be alcohol?”

“Absolutely.”

When Matt went in for his appointment with Rich, the nurse took him right back to the exam room and Rich came in after just a few minutes. “This the kind of service you get when you grew up with the doc?” Matt asked. He’d come to the appointment on his own, as he’d chosen not to tell anybody when it was.

“Ha, yes. But, really, I couldn’t wait to ask you what you’ve been eating.”

“What I’ve been eating?” Actually, it was a valid question. Matt really hadn’t been eating a lot lately, but Rich didn’t need to know that.

“Or is it a vitamin, something like that? Because the way you’ve healed is just remarkable.”

“Oh!” Actual scientific proof that meditation worked. “Oh, well I’ve been meditating about it, and praying. And M- uh, Sister Maggie has been praying, too, I think, though probably more for me not to injure myself than for any actual healing.”

“Yeah, the time it takes to heal is a lesson,” Rich quipped. “It really is remarkable. Can you hop up on the table? Sorry, it’s just to your right, and there’s a step.”

Matt found the step with his foot and got onto the table, then extended his arm for Rich to take.

“Matt.”

“What?”

“What did you do, try to saw off the cast?”

Matt had actually forgotten about that, or maybe he’d just pushed that day to the back of his mind. He’d been struggling at home, restless but unable to find anything to capture his attention until he’d finally decided to get rid of the cast.

“Uh. Yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t go through with that. You could have done a number on your arm.” He sighed and asked, “Can you wiggle your fingers?” Matt did, and Rich made an approving sound. “Have you been moving it much in the cast?”

Matt wasn’t sure what the right answer was. “Uh, yes.”

“No pain?”

“No.”

“Okay, I think this can come off, then.” Rich chuckled at Matt’s sigh of relief. “You need to go easy on it for a while, and you’ll have to build up the muscle again, but I don’t guess lawyering is a really hazardous job. How’d you break it again?”

“Oh, I fell. You know.” Matt felt the brief urge to explain to Rich just how he had fallen, just for the reaction; of course, he didn’t. “I’ll watch my step from now on.”

There was a brief pause from Rich, and then he laughed, though a little nervously. “Oh, yes, of course.”

The cast came off easily enough and Rich left with a handshake and an exhortation to keep in touch, and then someone else came in to show Matt some exercises to build up his arm, now shockingly thin.

“Do you want to take the cast with you?” she asked.

Matt thought about it. The cast would just be another reminder of time spent with Frank. He shook his head. “No, thanks.”

It would end up in the trash, Matt figured as he made his way out of the office; he told himself he didn’t care.

* * *

Frank hadn’t intended to stay. He’d come to return a book he’d borrowed from Leo and then he was going to clear out, maybe go upstate for a little while.

But then Sarah asked how he was doing, and Frank… well, he answered. Not about breaking up with Red, of course, but about the incident at the courthouse and the likely police involvement. It didn’t happen all at once, but Sarah had a way of asking questions that made Frank want to answer them.

Micro came in partway through the conversation and he and Sarah exchanged a look that felt meaningful.

“Stay here,” Sarah said, once Frank had finished.

“What? No. I can’t do that. What if they come here looking for me?”

“Then we lie,” Micro said, sounding unconcerned. Frank scoffed and Micro added, “What, like I’m always scrupulously honest with law enforcement?”

“We’ll get your truck somewhere else, so nobody can see it,” Sarah added. “You can stay in the guest room.”

“No. I can’t. I’m not…” Frank wasn’t a _guest_ , somebody someone would put out an extra towel for. He just wasn’t.

“How about the room over the garage?” Micro suggested. “You’d have to be careful about not leaving the lights on, and there’s no bed, but we can toss an air mattress up there.”

That sounded better, but Frank still hesitated.

“Just for a little while,” Sarah urged. “You can figure out your next move, but be safe while you do it.”

“I’ll make you a sandwich,” Micro added, then grinned when Frank lifted a fist, mock-threatening.

“You owe me that sandwich, so fine. Just for tonight. And if the cops show up, you tell them where I am.”

They smiled and didn’t say anything, and Frank knew they would never tell. He started to argue the point but then gave it off as a lost cause.

He should go. He knew it and was about to get up, but then Leo and Zack came into the house, bickering and noisy.

Of course, Frank thought about Lisa and Frankie. That was the main reason he didn’t come by more often. They would probably have been like this, sniping at each other the way siblings did, and -

“Frank!” Leo exclaimed, jolting Frank out of his reverie.

“Frank’s going to be staying here for a few days,” Sarah said, which was dirty pool; Frank had clearly said just that night. But Frank couldn’t correct her. Not in the face of Leo’s delight and Zack’s half-hidden smile.

“Dinner’s about ready,” Sarah added. “Kids, wash up, okay?”

The kids washed their hands at the sink with only a little bit of shoving, and Frank got up to do the same.

Sitting around the table with Micro and Sarah and their kids, it felt strange. Frank didn’t say much, just _Please_ and _Thank you_ and _Could you pass the bread?_

He listened to the family talk about their day and Frank almost closed his eyes, almost tried to remember what it was like to sit around a table with his family.

This was why he didn’t come by more often, why he always made excuses when they asked him to dinner. It was too close to what he’d had, but also worlds away.

Leo wasn’t Lisa and Zack wasn’t Frankie. They were good kids, both of them, but they weren’t his. He still couldn’t help thinking what his kids would have been like, though, picturing him and Maria bringing them over for dinner with Micro and Sarah and their kids. Of course, that never would have happened. If his family hadn’t been killed, Frank never would have met Micro and Sarah and the kids.

Frank managed not to think of it as a poor trade, because he liked the Liebermans. That night, though, as he tried to sleep on the air mattress in the room over the garage, Frank couldn’t help but think of his own family, of Maria and the kids. He tossed and turned and finally, out of desperation, turned his thoughts to Red.

He’d been avoiding thinking about Red, the way you favor an injured limb, but he needed the distraction. He built up a picture of Red in his mind: his smile, his hands, the way he moved, the way he spoke. Red was too smart for him, Frank often thought, but Red had never made him feel dumb.

Shit.

Frank missed him. It wasn’t the deep ache left by the absence of his family, but the pain was still there. He’d ignored Red’s texts and calls, and they’d finally stopped coming. Frank got out his phone and squinted at the call log. It had been a while. His hand hovered over the screen, but he didn’t make the call. What good would it do? He knew Red wouldn’t forgive him for killing those assholes, no matter how much they deserved it. He wanted to hear Red’s voice, but not… not the way he knew it would be if he called.

Better to leave him alone.

Frank would ignore the pain while holding it close.

He’d gotten good at that.

The next day, Frank still couldn’t get Red out of his head. He walked through the day in a numb fog, answering questions from the Liebermans at breakfast with short responses before retreating to the garage. He cleaned up the tools and the workshop just for something to do and then tried to read a book that he found tucked under a set of drill bits. Finally, he gave up and headed for the house, as he’d missed lunch and was feeling a little hungry.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Leo straightened suddenly, wiping at her eyes.

Crying.

_Uh oh_.

“Hey,” Frank said, thinking fast as he went to the fridge. “Uh. How was school?”

There was no response, and Frank glanced over his shoulder to see Leo staring at him. “How was school?” she asked, her tone a little amused, but also kind of implying that he was out of touch with today’s youth. Which, well, he was.

Frank shook his head. “Sorry, I panicked.” He gave up on the fridge and got himself a glass of water, then sat down next to Leo. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Leo replied. Her voice cracked on the last syllable, and then she laughed, though raggedly.

Frank slid the water in front of Leo. Hydration was important, after all. Plus, drinking would maybe take her mind away from crying. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said. “But if you want to…”

Leo took the glass and drank, and then wiped at her eyes once more. “So there’s this dance next Friday.” She paused meaningfully; Frank must have looked particularly confused, for she added, “Valentine’s Day.”

“Ah.” Frank had never been one for Valentine’s Day. He’d done the flowers-and-candy thing for Maria their first year together, but she’d said she got that it was just a holiday to sell greeting cards. “You love me every day,” she’d said, and he’d agreed.

Leo didn’t say anything else and Frank asked, “Are you going to the dance?” That got him a stifled little hiccup of a sob, and Frank wondered desperately where Sarah was. This really felt like it should be a mom sort of conversation. But, hell, Frank would even take Micro if it got him out of this awkwardness. Realization struck, and Frank asked, “Is this about a guy?” Leo nodded. “Want me to kick his ass?”

Leo laughed, which was the reaction that Frank had been hoping he’d get, because he sure wasn’t going to dole out an ass-kicking to some punk kid, even if that kid was the reason Leo was upset. “No,” she said. “I just… I asked him, and he said he wasn’t going, but now he’s going with _Brooklyn_.”

Frank had a brief, startled moment in which he wondered how a kid could take an entire city borough to a dance, but then the meaning clicked. “Aw, Leo, I’m sorry. This kid doesn’t have any taste. But you should still go to the dance. You show him what he’s missing.”

Leo nodded. “I am. I’m going with my friends. Mom’s going to do my hair. I just wish…” She drew in a shaky breath and wiped at her eyes. “Boys are dumb.”

“Words to live by.”

Leo smiled a little at him and asked, “What are you and Matt doing?” Maybe she read what must be a pained look on his part as more confusion, as she added, “For Valentine’s Day. It’s your first one as a couple, so you have to do something _good_.”

“Wait, how did you know…?” He couldn’t say _that Red and I are together_ , because, well, they weren’t.

“Heard Mom and Dad talking about it,” she replied with a shrug. “He’s a lawyer, right? Is he cute?”

“Uh…”

“It’s okay. You can tell me. I won’t tell anybody else.”

Damn if she wasn’t like her mom; he wanted to tell her what had happened with him and Red. But Frank couldn’t dump that on a kid, so he just smiled a little and said, “Yeah.”

Cute wasn’t really a word that he would use to describe Red; it seemed more appropriate for little kids or baby animals. But it was close enough for Leo.

“What’s it like to be in love?” Leo asked, resting her chin in a cupped hand.

Love. Really? He and Red had never said that word to each other. Was that what he felt? Was that why he couldn’t get Red out of his brain?

Was that why he’d killed those men, even though he knew Red wouldn’t like it?

Damn.

Frank realized that Leo was still waiting for an answer. “Complicated.”

“Well, boys are weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, Frank.”

Frank wasn’t sure for what, but he smiled and said, “Any time, Leo.”

Love.

Fuck.

* * *

Matt tried to focus on mass but he heard them whispering behind him, and he knew something was going to happen after the service ended. He just remained sitting in the pew, waiting for the sanctuary to clear out; sure enough, he heard them approach.

“Hi, Matt.” All three of them spoke over each other.

“Hi, kids. Did you like mass?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, with a decided lack of enthusiasm.

“Yay, God,” Sammy added, deadpan.

“Hey! You got your cast off.” That was Sammy, sliding into the pew next to him and tugging lightly at his jacket. Matt obligingly extended his arm and she added, “Your arm’s really skinny. Did it hurt to get the cast taken off?”

“Nah, not at all. And my arm’ll get better. It just rested too much when it was in the cast.”

“Weird,” said Pablo.

“Cool,” said Alex.

“Where’s Frank?” Pablo asked, though one of the other kids shushed him.

“I don’t know,” Matt replied, too tired of everything to evade the question. “Look, were we supposed to do something today?” He realized that he hadn’t taken the kids anywhere in a while, and of course, felt guilty.

There was a pause from the kids, likely as they exchanged glances or otherwise ganged up on him. “No,” Sammy replied. “But we’re not doing anything right now, so…”

Well, what else did he have to do? Go sit alone in his apartment? “Okay. What do you want to do?”

“We just want to hang out with you, Matt,” Alex said, and Matt couldn’t help but smile, particularly when Alex added, “Just not _here_.”

“Definitely not here,” Matt agreed. “Pizza?”

“Pizza,” the kids bellowed in response.

Matt stifled a laugh. “Okay, how many old people are looking at us right now?”

“Oh, all of them,” Sammy said cheerfully. “Who cares?”

Pablo added, “Yeah! _They_ aren’t getting pizza.”

Matt took a moment to clear the outing with one of the nuns. There was a little banter about which pizza place they should choose, as the kids and Matt all had their favorites, but eventually they settled on a spot and were sitting around a table with pizza and soda.

Matt asked the usual questions about school and got the expected vague answers. The kids related some orphanage news and some neighborhood gossip, and Matt was surprised to find himself pleasantly distracted by their chatter.

“How’s things going with you?” Alex asked during a break in the conversation.

“Uh, okay. You know, work, stuff.”

“How’s Foggy?” Sammy asked.

“He’s good.” Matt expected another question and it came, unsurprisingly, from Pablo.

“What’s up with Frank?”

Matt sighed. “What’s up with Frank is grownup stuff.”

“Did you really break up?” Sammy asked.

“Wait, what?”

Alex added, “I didn’t even know you guys were together.”

“How did you guys hear?”

Sammy slurped her drink before replying, “I heard about it at church.”

“What?” Matt shook his head. At church? Really? Still, he wasn’t entirely surprised. He’d heard people around the neighborhood speculating about why Frank wasn’t around lately. Matt had ignored them, particularly Manny at the bodega; there really wasn’t a way to acknowledge all those comments about his ass without it getting awkward.

“Is Frank… _gone_?” Pablo asked, sounding a little worried.

Matt felt for him. Orphanage kids didn’t have a lot of stability and when they latched on to someone who disappeared, that was rough.

Matt knew.

“I’m sorry, Pablo. I’m just not sure. I haven’t been in touch in a while.”

“You could call him and find out,” Pablo suggested, but Matt shook his head.

Sammy said, as they got up, took care of the dishes, and headed out of the pizza shop, “I could call him if you want.”

Smiling a little at the thought of Frank’s reaction to Sammy calling him, Matt replied, “Yeah, no. But thank you.”

“We want to help, Matt. And not just because Pablo won’t shut up about Frank.”

“Shut up, Alex!”

“Okay, now. Leave Pablo alone. I appreciate the offer, kids, but it’s still grownup stuff.”

“Which grownup?”

“Hmm?”

“Which grownup?” Sammy persisted. “’cause you don’t seem like you’re going to fix it yourself.”

Well, that was probably true. But Matt wasn’t about to tell a bunch of kids that Frank wouldn’t pick up his calls, that he wasn’t coming back to his apartment. No. Definitely grownup stuff.

Trouble was, Matt didn’t much feel like a grownup.

“Hey, are we in trouble?” Alex asked. “Sister Maggie’s sitting on the steps.”

“We said where we were going,” Pablo protested as they reached the steps.

“And Matt’s a responsible adult,” Sammy added.

Matt said, a little dryly, “Well, theoretically.”

“Sister Mary Grace let everyone know where you’d gone,” Maggie said.

“So we’re not in trouble?”

“Is that guilt talking, Alex?”

“No. But we all have homework.”

Matt smiled a little at the sounds of the kids rushing inside. “So am _I_ in trouble?” He settled down to a seat one step below the one where Maggie sat.

“I’m sure you’ve done something you shouldn’t, but I’m not aware of the specifics.”

“Was it okay that I took the kids? Sorry, it’s never been a problem before.”

“No, of course not. It’s good that you spend time with them, and I’m sure we can get that pizza sauce out of Alex’s shirt. I was just hoping to catch you. I see that the cast is off. Hopefully, Richie was the one to handle that.”

“Yes. He was impressed with how well it healed.”

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it.”

“Smug? That was smug? Huh.” Matt lolled back a little, trying to find a comfortable position on the step. “I’m just glad I don’t have that thing on my arm anymore.”

“Well, see that you don’t do too much too soon and break it again.” Matt exhaled a sound, almost a laugh, and Maggie said, “What, like that’s out of the realm of possibility?”

Matt was not about to tell her that he’d gone out the very night he’d gotten the cast removed, though at least he’d been careful about his arm. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you.”

They sat there in silence for a little while and Matt listened to the sounds of the neighborhood: kids playing, people bickering in an apartment down the block, somebody playing their music too loud.

Maggie’s heartbeat, which kept fluctuating in the way that Matt figured meant nervousness.

Finally, Matt said, “You said you wanted to talk to me. Anything in particular?”

There was another heartbeat thing from Maggie and then she said, “How have you been doing lately?”

Matt took in a breath and let it out. “You know.”

“I’ve been alive for a while. I know some things, yes.”

“About Frank and me.”

“Ah. Well, yes.”

Matt sighed. “Okay, I haven’t actually told that many people.” He considered and then rejected the thought of Jessica talking to his mother about… well, anything, though that was a conversation he’d love to see. “Foggy,” he decided.

Maggie hummed an affirmative. “He’s worried about you.”

“Maggie, I’m -” She cleared her throat and he didn’t finish the sentence.

“Matthew,” she said, her voice low. “It’s all right if you aren’t fine. You don’t always have to be.”

He wasn’t sure how to reply to that. He… okay, he wasn’t fine. Not really. Not at all. “I miss him,” he said.

Maggie didn’t reply, but Matt felt her hand rest on his shoulder. First, it felt nice, but then it got a little awkward. Maggie removed her hand and asked, “What happened?”

“He’s, uh, on the run from the cops. Triple homicide. Allegedly.”

“Huh. Well, I can see how that could cause some issues. Is that why you broke it off?”

“What? No.”

“Oh, of course not. Why would you, a lawyer, maybe find that concerning?”

“No, I mean I didn’t break up with him. I mean, technically he didn’t break up with me either, he just -” Matt felt his voice catch and tried to push away his feelings. He wasn’t a kid. His and Frank’s relationship had been good, sure, but it was over and Matt just had to get past it.

Maggie’s hand rested in his shoulder once more. “He what, Matthew?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“He left. And he’s not taking my calls or answering my texts.”

“Do you know where - oh, on the run from the cops, you said. Well, do they have any leads?”

“Not that they are choosing to share with me.”

Maggie squeezed his shoulder and released it once more. “Well, do you know where he might go? Does he have friends who might take him in?”

“I… yes. He’s got some friends from the Marines. I haven’t met many of them, but maybe…” He shook his head, frustrated. “But it doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because he - he left.”

Maggie was quiet for a long moment. “Maybe he had a reason for leaving. But maybe he wants you to come after him.” Matt scoffed; when Maggie spoke again, it was with some asperity. “You will run yourself ragged fighting for this city, but when it comes to this man, someone you care about, are you just going to give up? You’re not even going to talk about it?”

It wasn’t like it hadn’t occurred to him. “I tried. He’s not answering.”

“Phones and texts can be easy to ignore. People are a little harder.”

“But I don’t know where he is.”

Maggie sounded like she was trying to be patient. “You have resources, Matthew. You have friends who would be willing to help. If you’re ready to give up on this relationship, well, that’s your choice. But if you want to fight for him, then stop making excuses.”

“I’m not -”

“You are. And you don’t want to be my age, wishing you’d made different choices.”

That brought Matt up short. He turned on the step, twisting his body so that he was facing her. It didn’t make a difference in his perception, of course, but maybe she’d be more likely to answer if he was, for lack of a better word, looking at her. “Do you wish you’d made different choices?”

There was a sigh from Maggie, so quiet that he almost didn’t hear it. “I made what I thought was the right choice at the time,” she replied, which was not an answer at all.

He wondered if she had wanted his father to come after her, to fight for her.

“I… think I’m going to head home,” he said, getting to his feet.

“I should go in, too,” Maggie replied, and he offered her a hand up. She took it and got to her feet, then squeezed his hand. “I see how sad you’ve been. Just… take some time. Think about what you want.”

“Thanks, Maggie.”

He took her advice as he walked back to his apartment. What did he want? Well, he wanted to know the whole story behind Frank killing the men at the courthouse. He wanted Frank to have answered his calls.

He did find some irony in Frank, who had repeatedly told Matt he was a bad communicator, cutting off all contact. It was kind of funny.

Okay, no. Not really.

Matt let himself into his apartment and hung his cane on the rack by the door.

What did he want?

He thought about it as he changed out of his church clothes and into a pair of sweats and a hoodie.

_New socks_ , he decided, as he pulled on those thick socks he liked.

Clearly that was what Maggie had intended him to ponder. Socks.

Matt shook his head as he sprawled on the couch.

He wanted a beer. But he didn’t want to get up and walk all the way to the kitchen.

If Frank had been there, Frank could have gotten him a beer.

Frank.

That was what Maggie wanted him to think about after all.

So. Frank.

Matt grabbed a pillow and hugged it to his chest. That first day, when he’d come back to find the keys on the counter, that had hurt.

And, really, thinking about Frank still hurt. That’s why he had tried to avoid that. It was something he had to do, though. He needed to decide whether to let Frank go, or to fight for him.

Well, fighting was Matt’s nature, but did he want to fight for Frank?

Unfortunately, he was pretty sure it would be more likely to involve words than fists. He was good at words, sure, and it wasn’t like he wanted to hit Frank.

Well, no, he kind of wanted to hit Frank.

Okay, he _really_ wanted to hit Frank.

But that wasn’t all he wanted to do. He wanted to get answers, and for that, he needed to be in the same room as Frank, or… well, he’d try one more time. Matt grabbed his phone. “Call Frank.”

The phone rang and kept ringing until Matt ended the call. He tried another number.

“Yeah?”

“I want to hire you.”

“… to do what?”

“Find Frank.”

There was a long sigh from the phone. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You know he’s not going to change? Right?”

“Yeah.”

Matt knew that. Of course, he did. If he changed, he wouldn’t be Frank anymore, and it was Frank that he… missed. Wanted. Hell, that he loved.

“Okay, I’ll do what I can.”

“Thanks, Jess.”

* * *

Frank’s phone buzzed and he glanced up from the book he was reading.

Red. He hadn’t called in a while. There had been a lot of calls right after the incident at the courthouse, but Frank hadn’t wanted to deal with the accusations. Red would have been all, blah, blah, redemption. And then it just would have been weird to answer, after ignoring so many calls.

But now Frank kind of wanted to talk to him. He just wasn’t sure what to say. There had to be something between “hey” and “I’m not sorry I killed those guys, but I see why it would upset you,” but before Frank could think of it, Red had stopped the call.

Well, it had taken Frank a while to try and figure out what to say. He almost called Red back, but he still hadn’t found the right words and just calling and not saying anything was creepy.

It occurred to him that he didn’t know what Red’s phone said when _he_ called. He knew it was whatever Red put in the contacts, but sometimes he had a little fun with it, such as “oh, shit, it’s Jess.” Frank had never checked Red’s phone, of course, so he had no idea what his contact said.

He was kind of curious, but it was probably just “Frank”.

Well, hopefully, it was just “Frank.” Maybe Red had changed it to something less complimentary, after everything.

“You going to call someone?”

“Huh?” Frank looked up to see Micro watching him, looking curious and smiling a little.

“You’ve been staring at your phone since I came in.”

Frank scoffed and put his phone away. “Maybe I was checking my Instagram.” Frank did not have an Instagram, but Leo had told him about hers.

That got him a laugh. “You weren’t. I know what Instagram looks like - trust me - and that wasn’t it.”

“Yeah, you got me. I was just thinking about making a call.”

“To Matt?” Frank didn’t reply, and Micro added, “If you think he can get here without alerting the cops, he’s welcome to come. We’d love to meet him.”

“Thanks, but nah. Too complicated.” Which was the truth. But with Leo and now Micro asking about Red, Frank thought he should probably make more serious plans for where he was going next. Upstate was still an option, or maybe farther afield. Maybe he’d go back to Michigan, see how Beth was doing.

No. Beth deserved better than how Frank was doing. He missed Red and going to see Beth wouldn’t be fair to her.

“That’s got to be hard,” Micro was saying. “I know how much I missed Sarah and the kids while I was gone.”

“Yeah, and I don’t even have a video feed,” Frank quipped.

“Well,” said Micro, “Let me know if you change your mind. He’s welcome.”

“Thanks.”

Micro continued on through the living room as Frank started to figure out where he was going. Maybe Ithaca. Maybe out to Ohio. He’d driven through there on the way to Michigan.

He couldn’t settle in a place. Maybe he should just go get his truck and drive.

Thing was, he didn’t want to. He wanted to go back to Hell’s Kitchen and talk to Red. He still didn’t know what he wanted to say, but at least he knew who he wanted to say it to.

The cops were potentially a problem, though. They might be keeping tabs on Red’s place, and Frank wasn’t ready to go back to jail.

No. He needed to go somewhere else. He just didn’t know where.

* * *

Matt and Foggy made their way out of the courthouse, victorious. Foggy has made an amazing closing statement and the judge had ruled in their favor. Matt actually felt the weight of the past several weeks lifting a little bit. He missed Frank, of course, and was still angry and… okay, maybe he was still upset with the whole situation.

“Hey, Brett,” Foggy called, and Matt felt his heart sink. Had he tracked down Frank? Matt didn’t smell blood, though; if Brett had found Frank, at least he wasn’t bleeding.

“Foggy. Murdock. Looks like you’ve had a good day in court.”

“Not to brag, but I was awesome,” replied Foggy and Matt could hear his smile.

“And modest. Murdock, can I borrow you?”

Foggy teased, “Uh oh, Matty. It’s never good when he wants to see you alone.”

Shit. Shit. “Uh, sure,” Matt said. “Meet you back at the office, Fogs?”

“Sounds good.”

Matt fell into step with Brett. “What’s up?” he asked, trying not to sound as rattled as he felt.

Brett didn’t say anything for a minute, and Matt was glad nobody could hear his heartbeat, as it was probably off the charts. “Tempted as I am to string you along, I wanted to let you know to relax.”

“What?” Matt took a deep breath. Breathing, yeah, he remembered how to do that.

“Yeah, we’ve given up on looking for Castle. There’s nothing that points to him. If we’d found something, maybe, but just a tip isn’t enough without evidence.”

“I’m assuming you looked.”

Brett sighed. He did that a lot, Matt noticed. Foggy would probably kid him, say that Matt himself was the reason for the sighs, but Matt wasn’t so sure. This was a tough place to be a cop. “Yeah, I looked. So wherever Castle is, you can tell him to come back. We may want to talk to him about it, but unless he says he did it - and I wouldn’t put that past him - we wouldn’t be able to make anything stick.”

“You’re probably not supposed to tell me that.”

There was another sigh. “I know. Just, when you see - uh, talk to him, ask him to be a little less obvious, okay? Right in front of the courthouse, that was a lot.”

“Well, if I thought he’d killed those men, I’d give him that advice.” Also, if he knew where Frank was. Matt still hadn’t heard from Jessica, aside from a text or two. He didn’t know how she managed it, but she even sounded annoyed in her texts.

“Always keeping your guard up, huh, Counselor?”

Matt shrugged. “Boxer’s kid,” he jested, lifting his hands in an exaggerated _put ’em up_ gesture. The cane dangling from one hand kind of ruined the effect, he imagined.

Brett sighed yet again. “Lawyers.”

“Look, thanks,” Matt relented. “I appreciate you letting me know.”

Brett muttered something that was probably intentionally vague but sounded annoyed, and then Matt heard him walk off. He ducked out a side exit and got out his phone and told it to text Jess. “Any luck question mark. Send text.”

After a few minutes, his phone indicated an incoming message, and when Matt prompted it, read aloud, “Text from Oh No It’s Jess reads: Middle finger emoji.”

Matt exhaled a sound that was almost a laugh. That was a no. He turned his steps back toward the office.

Jessica was looking for Frank on his behalf. Presumably, that meant that he was, at some point in the near future, going to be in the same room as Frank. Jess was good at her job, after all.

He should, Matt decided, figure out what the hell he wanted to say.

That evening after work, Matt sat his takeout container on the counter and frowned in thought. That had been about where he was standing, right? He made a throwing gesture and then walked in what he figured was the right direction. It took a little bit of fumbling, but he found the keychain and clutched it so tightly that the metal bit into his hand.

Jess had texted while he and Foggy were meeting with a client, but he hadn’t wanted to listen until he got some privacy.

He went to sit on the couch, keys in one hand, phone in the other.

Maybe Jess had found Frank. Maybe she hadn’t and was giving up; it had been a few days, after all. Frank was like that cat, both found and still lost until Matt played the message. He wanted to know, he did, but only if it was good news. If Jess said that Frank was lost or, God help him, dead, Matt didn’t want to know. He wanted to have that hope of finding Frank, of being able to tell him… well. He still hadn’t figured out that part.

Matt strongly considered calling Foggy, going to Josie’s, and drinking until he couldn’t think about anything at all, especially Frank. That was tempting. But the thought of the inevitable hangover made him reconsider. He had court the next day, after all.

He could just eat his food, go to bed, and ignore the message. He just had to figure out if not knowing was worse than learning bad news. If only he could -

The phone, interrupting his circling thoughts, announced, “Oh shit, it’s Jess.”

Matt’s stomach clenched. Never had that message been more appropriate. He thought about letting the call go to voicemail, but maybe Jess would show up if he didn’t answer. Over the phone was better.

“Hey.”

“So have you even read my text?”

“Well, technically my phone reads it.”

“Ugh. Seriously? Look, you’re even more irritating than your boyfriend, and that’s saying something.”

Matt’s heart leapt, and he told it to knock that shit off. “He’s not -” He cleared his throat and tried again, this time in a lower register. “Does that mean you found him?”

Jess scoffed. “Stop with the Batman voice. Of course I found him. He isn’t in Manhattan, which was a giant pain in the ass, but I know where he is. Or where he was as of this morning.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“No. You hired me to find him. You’re going to have to talk to him yourself.”

Oh, perfect. But not like it was a surprise. And, really, it was probably for the best. Matt didn’t want to think too hard about what Jess would have said to Frank. He exhaled a long breath. “Okay. Where is he?”

“Well, if you’d had your phone read you your messages like a grownup, you’d already know.”

Matt sighed. “Come on.”

“You were probably sitting there being all emo about it.” Jess dropped her voice comically low and deadpanned, “ _Oh no. What does the message say? I will sit here and be emo about it_.”

“Jess.”

She let out a short bark of laughter. “Fine. He’s staying with this family, the Liebermans.”

“Oh.” Frank had mentioned them in passing; he still kept in touch.

“You have to get the address from your texts, though. I’m not going to do everything for you.” She hesitated, then asked, “Want a ride?”

“You have a car?”

He heard her shrug in her tone. “I can borrow one.”

“No, thanks. I need… I don’t know. I need to figure out some things first.”

Jess groaned, a long, drawn-out sound. “Go talk to him.”

“I will.”

“Today.”

“Why are you so invested in this?”

“I just want you to stop moping and being emo. Emoping. It’s annoying.”

Matt couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll try.”

Jess sighed, and then the phone clicked off.

Matt finally opened the text and had his phone read it.

Maybe he should have accepted the ride; the address wasn’t exactly close. But he still wasn’t ready to talk to Frank. He’d sleep on it, maybe.

Tomorrow. He’d go talk to Frank tomorrow.

A couple of tomorrows came and went, and Matt still hadn’t gone to see Frank. Friday after work, he went in search of Maggie but encountered Sister Bernadette on the way.

“You look troubled, Matthew.”

“I’m fine, Sister,” he reassured, but she clicked her tongue at him.

“I know fine when I see it, and you’re not.” She took his arm and drew him to the bench in the foyer.

He had quite a few memories of sitting on that bench as a kid, usually when he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Now,” Sister Bernadette urged, patting his hand lightly. “What’s wrong?”

Matt couldn’t go into specifics, of course. He wasn’t sure how Sister Bernadette would react to the idea of Matt being in a relationship with a man, let alone the Punisher. “I need to go talk to a… a friend.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like something that should trouble you. Friends are a blessing from God.”

Matt managed not to smile at the thought of Frank’s likely reaction to being described thusly. “They are, but this friend and I are… we’re struggling a little lately.”

“All the more reason you should talk. Did one of you do something to upset the other?”

Matt wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that. “Yes, I… he did, but he might have had a reason for doing it.” He hoped Frank had a reason. If he didn’t, well, he wasn’t the man Matt knew.

Sister Bernadette patted his hand once more. “Well, let’s pray about it.” Matthew hummed an affirmative, and Sister Bernadette said, “God, let Matthew hear his friend with compassion and love. Let him listen with an open heart and speak with wisdom. Amen.”

“Huh. That was short. It was a good prayer, though, thank you.”

Sister Bernadette laughed a little. “The trick is to try and ask God for the things that He already wants.”

“Thy will be done,” Matthew murmured.

“Exactly. Now be a good boy, Matthew, and make up with your friend.”

“I’ll do my best. Thank you, Sister.”

“You’re welcome, child.”

He heard the scuff of her shoes as she left, and then he leaned back against the bench, the hard edge pressing into his back. After a moment, the bench creaked as Maggie sat next to him.

He couldn’t quite explain how he knew it was her, but he always did.

“That _was_ a good prayer.”

“Yeah.”

“You know where he is?”

Matt straightened a little, rubbing his back with one hand. The bench, he decided, was penance. “Yeah. A friend tracked him down.”

“Are you going to go talk to him?”

Matt turned in her direction and exhaled a quiet sigh. “What do you think I should do?”

“Oh, no. That’s a choice you have to make for yourself.” She paused and then apparently relented, saying, “But you were happier with him.”

“You have to go, Matt!”

He managed not to groan as Alex, Sammy, and Pablo thundered down the stairs.

“This is not your business,” Maggie chided.

Sammy countered, “But we want Matt to be happy.”

“And we miss Frank,” Pablo added.

“Children,” Maggie said, her tone growing stern.

“Sister, we talked to Matt about this before,” said Alex. “It’s okay!”

“It is _not_ okay,” Maggie replied tartly.

Matt was not about to disagree with Maggie, particularly when she spoke in that tone of voice. The kids apparently felt the same way, as Matt heard them shuffle off.

“Bye, Matt,” they called, and Pablo added, “Good luck with Frank.”

“They mean well,” Matt said, once the kids had gone back upstairs."

Maggie said crisply, “It’s still none of their business. This is between you and Frank.” She hesitated, then asked, “Have you heard from him at all?”

Matt bit back a smile. “Between me and Frank, huh?” Maggie cleared her throat and Matt said, “Like I said, I know where he’s staying.”

“And you never said whether you were going to go see him. Are you?”

Matt exhaled a short breath. “I don’t know.”

It took Maggie a moment to answer and Matt could almost hear her counting to ten. “Didn’t we already have this discussion?”

“We did.” Matt shifted on the bench, then got to his feet, moving restlessly. “I just don’t know what to say to him.”

Maggie’s heartbeat did a stuttery thing and Matt wondered if she was thinking about his father. “Just say what’s in your heart.” Matt turned toward her and some of his surprise at her soft words must have shown on his face, because her voice was tart as she added, “If you can figure it out.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Matt replied with a shrug. “He’s out in the suburbs and I’ve never been there. Getting there is too complicated.”

The bench creaked as Maggie got to her feet. “The orphanage does have a car, you know. I could…” Maybe she saw his hesitancy, as she amended, “Or Connie. You like Connie.”

“I like you,” Matt protested, and Maggie scoffed but still sounded pleased. “It wasn’t who was driving, but whether I want to go at all.”

Sounding exasperated, Maggie replied, “Of course you do. You’ve been pining after him since he left.”

“I haven’t been _pining_.”

“Matthew, lying is a sin.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Okay, maybe I was pining a _little_.”

“Just talk to him,” Maggie urged. “You know where he is. That might not always be the case.”

Well. That was true, and Jess might not be willing to track Frank down again.

And he did want to talk to Frank. He still didn’t know what to say, but maybe he’d figure it out. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Matt nodded, and Maggie asked tentatively, “Should I get Connie?”

“What? No. Unless you don’t want to -”

“No, of course I do. Just let me get my jacket.”

Maggie walked down to the hall closet, so Matt was pretty sure he was the only one to hear Pablo’s whispered, “Yes!” from the top of the stairs.

* * *

It had been hard to say goodbye to the Liebermans. Leo, in particular, had made things tough. She hadn’t begged him to stay, not anything like that, but she’d just looked at him with her big, sad eyes.

He had to leave though. The cops hadn’t come looking for him, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t show up.

“Where are you going?” Leo asked.

“Probably shouldn’t tell you,” Frank replied, with an apologetic grimace.

She nodded. “That’s okay. Dad can track your phone if we need to find you.”

Frank looked over at Micro, who shrugged a little but nodded.

Leo sighed and ran upstairs. “She’ll be okay,” Sarah reassured, and Zack looked up from his phone to nod.

Frank turned to go, but then Leo hurried down the stairs. “Frank, wait.” She rushed to his side and pressed a book into his hands. “Wherever you’re going, you’re going to need something to read, right?”

“Yeah.” Frank glanced at the book and then smiled at Leo. “Thanks. We’ll talk about it when I’m back in the area.”

Leo nodded, though she looked a little worried. “Be careful, okay, Frank?”

Frank nodded. “I will. And you have a good time at that dance tonight, okay?” He lifted a hand to the others and went out the front door. Micro had left his truck parked out front and Frank climbed in, dropping the book and his go bag on the passenger seat.

He had a plan. He was going to go upstate for a few weeks. He had a motel lined up for that night. When things cooled down a little more, maybe he’d give Karen a call and see if she could give him the lay of the land.

Frank rested his hands on the steering wheel, though he didn’t start the car yet. What he really wanted to do was say _Fuck it_ , go back to the city, and find Red. It was a Friday, after work. Maybe he’d be at that bar he liked.

It was what he wanted to do but it wasn’t the smart thing to do, and Frank needed to make smart choices.

He took a deep breath and started the truck.

* * *

Matt ran a hand along the side of the orphanage’s car as he approached the front passenger seat, feeling the dents and the chips in the paint. Unsurprisingly, it was old and big and built like a tank.

“It was a donation,” Maggie said before Matt could comment.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. It’ll get you where you need to go. That’s what’s important.”

And if she murmured a prayer before she started the car, Matt wasn’t going to comment on that, either.

They spent most of the trip to the Liebermans’ house in silence, Matt still trying to work out what to say to Frank, Maggie likely concentrating on her driving, or maybe just giving Matt some space.

He appreciated that. She seemed to have positive opinions about Matt and Frank, which puzzled Matt a little. He would have thought that she would have objected to Matt being with Frank, if not for the two guys thing, then for the Frank killing people thing. He was glad for her support, though.

“We’re nearly there,” Maggie said, her voice quiet, but Matt’s heart still leapt.

“Okay.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Thanks. Uh. How soon?”

“Just a few minutes.”

Matt nodded and tried not to fidget, though Maggie having to stop at a traffic light was nearly more than he could take.

He tried to listen as they drew closer, to hear Frank’s heartbeat, but the noises of the suburbs were too different. Too many birds and other animals, not enough cars.

Maggie stopped the car and turned it off. “We’re parked on the same side of the street as the address you gave me. Do you want me to - oh.”

She didn’t have to tell him, for Matt finally heard that familiar heartbeat, slow and steady. Frank came out of the house and got into a truck, and Matt found he couldn’t move.

“Matthew,” Maggie urged. “I’m not going to follow him. His truck looks old, but I don’t think this car could keep up.”

“Yeah. Right. Of course.” Matt unbuckled his seat belt. “I wouldn’t want to do the whole _follow that car_ thing.” He took a deep breath and opened the car door, then got out and made his way toward the truck. Frank starting the truck caused a jolt of concern, and he walked faster.

Frank didn’t seem to be going anywhere, though, despite the rumbling of the truck’s engine.

Matt came up along the driver’s side door. He still wasn’t sure what to say, so he started with, “Frank?”

He had a brief thought of Frank not hearing him over the truck and driving away, but after a moment Matt heard the window roll down and then the truck turned off.

“Red. Hey.”

Matt couldn’t really describe the emotion that he heard in Frank’s voice, but it sounded encouraging, so he tried a smile. “I, uh. Hey.”

Frank was quiet for a moment then asked, his voice low, “How’d you find me?”

“Oh. Uh, Jessica. I hired her for a fee to be named later.”

“Oh, you’re fucked,” Frank said, sounding amused.

“Basically.” Matt cleared his throat.

“Huh.” Matt heard a car approaching and pressed closer to the truck. “Get in,” Frank added, “Before somebody hits you.”

Matt considered arguing, but then heard another car. “Okay. Thanks.” He went around the car and sat in the passenger seat. “So the cops aren’t looking for you for the courthouse thing anymore. They couldn’t find anything to tie you to it.”

“Hmm. Well, good. I was going to go upstate, but I guess I don’t have to, now.”

“Yeah.” Matt turned toward Frank. His heartbeat, his presence, it was all reassuring, but Matt asked, “You killed them, though, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And then you left.”

“Yeah, I did. I figured…”

Whatever Frank figured, he didn’t say it, but his heart rate picked up a little.

Matt shook his head. Suddenly angry, he found the words starting to flow. “You killed those guys and you left and you wouldn’t answer my texts or take my calls and I didn’t know what the hell was going on.”

“Red -” Matt heard a sound that it took him a moment to identify: Frank’s hands tightening in the steering wheel. “I knew you’d be pissed off that I killed those guys.”

“Of course I was pissed off that you killed those guys! Why did you do that, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter. I killed them; they’re dead.”

“It does matter. They were drug dealers, sure, but they were still young. They had plenty of time for -”

“Redemption,” Frank interrupted, his tone derisive.

“Yes! Redemption. They could have changed.”

Frank sighed. “They were never going to change, Red.” He sounded tired, and Matt wondered if he had been sleeping enough.

Privately, Matt thought that redemption would have been a stretch for those three, but he couldn’t admit that. Not after all the times he’d argued in favor of people doing better. “So why did you kill them, Frank?” Frank didn’t answer; his heart rate, which had settled down, spiked once more. Matt pressed, “I know you had a reason. You don’t just kill people.”

“What does it matter why I killed them? They’re dead, and they’re not going to deal any more drugs, or -” Frank’s voice caught, and he muttered, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Or what?” Matt persisted. “Did you find out something else they were doing?”

Frank didn’t answer, but Matt felt like he was on the right track, like in court when the witness was ready to say what Matt wanted.

“Frank,” he said, gentling his voice. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t pull that lawyer shit with me,” Frank said, though he sounded amused. “Thing is, it’s not okay, and that’s why I don’t want to tell you why I did it. It won’t be okay.”

Matt frowned. What reason could Frank have that wouldn’t be okay to Matt? Even though Matt didn’t like that Matt killed people, he tended to understand Frank’s rationale. He didn’t agree with it, but he usually got Frank’s perspective.

“How do you know it won’t be okay?”

Frank scoffed. “Because I know you, Red. It’s not gonna be okay and I don’t want you to -” Frank broke off his words. “Can you just let this go?”

Matt considered it. Frank knew him, yes, and Matt figured he could be right about Matt not being okay with his motivations.

That, of course, made Matt want to know even more.

And what would happen if Matt said that he could let it go? Would he get out of the truck and Frank would drive off? Would they go back to Hell’s Kitchen together? Either way, Matt would keep wondering why Frank had killed those men.

Frank knew him, but Matt knew himself even better. “No. I don’t think I can. I need to know.”

Frank sighed. “Figured it was worth a try. Just remember that I’m the one who killed them, okay? It’s on me. Not you.”

His stomach clenching with unease, Matt kept his voice even as he said, “Just tell me.”

There was a long pause from Frank and he finally said, “They knew you were Daredevil.”

“And?” Matt knew that they knew, but how did Frank? As much as he wanted to barrel into the conversation with question after question, he knew he had to let Frank speak at his own pace.

“They were going to out you unless you got some buddy of theirs off for something he did.”

“Out me?” It took a moment for Matt to realize Frank meant _as Daredevil_. “At the courthouse?”

“In front of everybody, yeah.”

A sick realization began to build within Matt. “And that’s why you killed them? So they wouldn’t tell?”

His voice flat, Frank said, “It was the only way.”

“No - no it _wasn’t_ ,” Matt protested. “It absolutely was _not_. And how did you know they were going to do that? Why didn’t _I_ know?” Frank didn’t say anything, and Matt exhaled a frustrated sigh. “Just tell me.”

“Yeah, right now, when you’re already pissed off at me.” Frank scoffed. “Fine. I, uh, answered your phone when you were in the shower and the asshole said what he was going to do.”

Matt inhaled sharply. “And it never occurred to you to, I don’t know, mention that to me?” Matt’s stomach churned as guilt warred with anger.

“C’mon, Red. What would you have done? Would you have helped a guilty man go free?” Now it was Matt’s turn not to answer, though he really didn’t have to. “Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Frank said. “So then you would have let those assholes tell everybody who you are, and fuck up your life _and_ Nelson’s?”

There really was no way to answer that question, either. If he would have been the only one to suffer from it, he would have said, _Fine, I would have let them reveal my identity._ But he and Frank both knew that there would have been ramifications for Foggy’s legal career, and he couldn’t have done that to Fogs.

“It still should have been my choice.”

“Fuck, you’re stubborn. Okay, smart-ass. What would you have chosen?”

“I…”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. There’s no good choice. So I solved it my way.”

“And three people died!”

“Three pieces of filth who were -” Frank smacked the steering wheel. “We’re just going to talk around in circles and have the same fucking conversation.”

“Well, what the hell did you expect? Did you think I was going to thank you for killing three people?”

“I didn’t think you were going to find out. That’s why I left.” Frank didn’t say _asshole,_ but his tone took care of that for him.

Matt shook his head. “Well, maybe that was the right call.” He opened the truck’s door and got out. He was kind of hoping Frank would say something to stop him, but he didn’t. As Matt walked back to the orphanage car, Frank started his truck and drove off.

Matt tried not to care as Frank’s heartbeat grew farther away.

“What happened?” Maggie asked when Matt had closed the car door behind him. “I was serious about not following him.”

Matt considered his answer, then shrugged. “He, uh, killed the men because they were going to out me as Daredevil if I didn’t get their friend out of jail.”

Maggie was quiet for a moment and he imagined her processing his words. “Most guys send flowers,” she observed.

“Maggie, it’s not funny! Three men are dead!”

“No, no, you’re right. Killing those men was wrong, but…”

“Don’t say his motives were good.”

Maggie started up the car and drove. “Good motives don’t erase the sin, I know, but it sounds like he was doing it to help you.”

Matt scoffed. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from _you_.”

“What, because I’m a nun?”

“Yes, because you’re a nun! You’re not supposed to condone murder.”

Maggie sighed. “I don’t. But I have to say, I am also not a fan of beating up people, even though it’s not in the commandments. I guess _thou shalt not bludgeon_ didn’t have a good ring to it. I do see why you do it, though.”

“No, what I do isn’t the same as what Frank does.”

Matt could hear the shrug in Maggie’s voice. “Only in its degree.”

Matt let his head drop against the seat’s headrest, remembering Frank’s words: _You’re just one bad day away from being me._

He didn’t want to agree with Maggie, but he could see that he and Frank had the same motivation: making the city better. But Matt hadn’t killed anybody, and that mattered to him.

“I notice you’re not answering,” Maggie said.

Matt exhaled a short laugh. “That’s right.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t tell Frank what was in your heart, huh?”

With a sigh, Matt replied, “I did not. We got derailed by the whole _Frank killed people for me_ thing.”

Maggie hummed an affirmative and drove in silence for a little while. “Well, Matthew, it seems to me that you always knew Frank killed people.”

“Yes, but it’s these particular people. If not for me, they’d still be alive.”

Maggie scoffed. “Did you kill them? No. They are dead and I will pray for them tonight, but Frank took their lives. I would say not to be guilty about it, but…”

“Catholic.” They both spoke at the same time, and Matt actually laughed before saying, “I’m just so blindsided by it all.”

Maggie snorted at the joke, then said, “That makes sense, but would you have preferred he told you about the situation?”

“Yes, of course!” But then Matt thought about the impossible decision he would have had to make. “I don’t want those men to be dead, but…”

“The way Frank saw it, killing them was in your best interest.”

“Yes.”

Matt hated it, but it was true. Frank knew that Matt would have twisted himself in knots over the choice, and Matt was self-aware enough to guess that he probably would have done something stupid and self-sacrificing in an attempt to fix the situation.

Fuck.

He didn’t say much for the rest of the trip back to the Kitchen, though he did remember to thank Maggie.

As he started down the street to his apartment, he heard the kids burst out if the orphanage to ask Maggie, in voices they probably thought were quiet, how it had gone. Maggie told them it wasn’t their business, and the kids sighed.

Matt wondered why these kids were so invested in his love life, or lack thereof, then decided he didn’t want to question it too closely.

But as he walked, he tucked his hand in his pocket and curled his fingers around Frank’s keychain.

* * *

Frank had cooled down by the time he reached the city.

See, that was why he hadn’t wanted to tell Red, why he’d left, why he’d basically ended the relationship. He’d known that Red wouldn’t like it, even though it had been the only solution. Red was so caught up in being a good Catholic that he didn’t think about how life really worked.

If there was a hell, everybody Frank killed was in it, and a few more weeks or months or even years of life wouldn’t have changed that.

People didn’t change, but Red was never going to accept that.

Frank parked his truck near his apartment, deciding to wait to take it to the garage where he stored it. Not really remembering what food he had in his apartment, he got takeout and went up to his place.

It had been good to see Red, even with him all pissed off.

Well, actually in part because he’d been all pissed off, but Frank wasn’t going to think too hard about that. No, Frank had done the right thing. He knew it, even if Red couldn’t deal with it.

He had noticed that Red had gotten his cast off, even though there hadn’t been a great moment to mention that. He hoped that Red was being careful with it, that he didn’t do some stupid ninja stunt and break it again.

Well, he hoped, but he was realistic about it, too. Red had never really been known to be careful after all.

Frank smiled a little as he sat at his kitchen table and ate his food, not really tasting it but knowing that he should eat. He’d clean out the fridge later, stock up on the basics.

Or maybe not. What did he have keeping him there? If he stayed, he’d inevitably run into Red; Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t that big, and they would end up hunting the same low-lifes. And he wanted to see Red, but it would hurt, too.

Yeah. He should go. Red had made it clear that he was pissed off.

No reason to stay.

Frank stuffed a final forkful of food into his mouth and went to start packing. He still had that motel reservation. He could go upstate and then figure it out from there.

He’d gotten some of his clothes put in a box when a knock sounded at the door.

Frank figured it was a neighbor, but he still looked out the peephole and there was Red.

Well, shit. Probably come to tell Frank more reasons he was wrong. Well, Frank was up for a good fight. He opened the door. “I’m not sorry.”

Red stayed in the doorway. “I know you’re not. That’s who you are.”

What, no snappy lawyer comeback? Frank turned back to the dresser and pulled out the last few shirts. He didn’t reply. Wasn’t anything to say.

“I know you did what you thought was right,” Red added. “That you were trying to help me. I… I can’t say thank you -” Frank scoffed. He knew Red would never thank him for taking a life, but he hadn’t done it for thanks. “- but I appreciate why you did it.”

“Welcome,” Frank replied. He glanced over and saw that Red was smiling. It wasn’t that cocky lawyer smile, wasn’t the big grin he got sometimes when he’d had too much to drink. No, it seemed thoughtful and a little sad. “You can come in if you want,” Frank added.

Red stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him. Frank closed his one good suitcase and snapped the lock, and Red seemed to realize what he was doing. His smile vanished. “Are you going on a trip?”

Frank sighed. “I don’t know, Red. The Kitchen, that’s your place.”

“Wait. You’re leaving? Again?”

Frank moved closer to Red. Not personal-space close, just closer. “There a reason I should stay?”

Red was having trouble figuring out what to say; that confused look on his face made it kind of obvious, and Frank kind of loved it. Red, lawyer, always the one to win an argument, at a loss for words. Finally, Red just said, “Yes.”

“Yeah?”

Red’s mouth did a thing. It was probably another thinking for words thing, but it got Frank thinking about Red’s mouth and, well. Red smiled.

Stupid heightened senses. “So, what, we go back to how things were, and then I kill someone else and you get pissed off again?”

Red took a deep breath and shoved a hand in his pocket. “No.”

Well, shit. Frank turned to his closet and pulled out his dress uniform, carefully kept in a garment bag. He’d get in touch with his landlord once he was gone, say he wasn’t coming back.

“Frank.” He turned and Red had his hand out, and there was the key Frank had left on Red’s counter. It seemed like years had passed since then.

“What?”

“Just… come back.” Red didn’t say _please_ , but he didn’t have to; his voice said it for him.

“I’m not going to change and neither are you. We both know that.”

“Yeah,” Red agreed. “I know. But we can figure out how to be who we are and still be together. Can’t we?” He smiled a little. “We can communicate.”

Frank looked at Red’s hand, still outstretched. It was shaking a little. He stepped closer and took the key. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess we can.” Red exhaled a soft, relieved sound and Frank smiled. He was pretty sure they would still have their fights, but as long as they talked things out, maybe they’d be okay.

He almost told Red he loved him, almost bent down and kissed him, but it seemed like too much for the moment. So he just said, “Want to help me unpack?”

Red turned his head toward Frank’s belongings. “There’s not a lot of stuff, is there? If you wanted, you could bring it to my place.”

Which was, Frank thought, kind of a way for Red to say _I love you_ , letting Frank into his space on a more permanent basis.

“Yeah,” said Frank. “Sounds good.” Which was kind of Frank’s way to say _I love you_ back.

Red smiled. He got it.

Sometimes they didn’t need to say the actual words.

It wasn’t until late that night, as he drifted off to sleep with Red’s head pillowed on his shoulder, that Frank realized it was Valentine’s Day.

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely self-indulgent, but if you have opinions about the combination of pizza and soda, please let me know. There's a reason, I promise. :D


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